


Dying Embers

by Loracine



Series: Dying Embers [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Cheating, Fluff, Happy Ending?, Heartbreak, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Language, Rejection, Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Underage Sex, not explicit, references to rape as a very bad thing, sorry - Freeform, you will cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loracine/pseuds/Loracine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen met Jared at a young age and the two were inseparable ever since. Well, that is until high school when Jared discovered girls. Problem was, they were soul mates. So, what happens when Jared disappears to college for a few years and completely ignores Jensen while he is there?</p><p>Rated 'Teen and Up' mainly as a precaution.<br/>The reference to rape is indirect and deals mostly with the aftermath from the victim's point of view.</p><p>Check out the pretty art I made on my <a href="http://loracine.livejournal.com/2453.html">LiveJournal</a> post!</p><p>COMING UP... TimeStamps!<br/>I have created a second fic in this series, and they will be added to it as I get them completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: Legos at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I receive no monetary compensation. If you recognize it, I don't own it.
> 
> Also, all mistakes are my own. I have no beta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen meet Jared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you used to the longer chapters of my "Doc Martens" fic, I must inform you that the chapters of this fic are going to be much shorter. I am gearing up to take a massive monster of an exam (You try studying to sit for an eight hour exam and manage to write good fiction on a regular schedule.) and will no longer be able to indulge my fetish for 2000+ word updates. Never fear, though, the quality of my writing will not suffer. I will just make a couple chapters out of what would have been one. I am also playing around with POV in this fic. The omniscient POV will switch between Jard and Jensen. Watch for the bolded text that marks each switch point in the story.
> 
> The prompt for this story is actually posted in my "Prompts to Inspire" collection. Follow the [link](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3646269/chapters/9010411) to read it and feel free to use it or anything else I have posted there as inspiration for your own work.
> 
> WARNINGS: none

**Jensen's POV**

At ten years old Jensen Ackles was not mature enough to realize the enormity of what he had just done. He only knew he was not happy with his father's latest decree. He hadn't meant to smash mom's flower pots or tip over her painting easel. He hadn't even smashed her glass vase in their bedroom. It was only a little chipped. Besides, it was butt ugly to begin with. It wasn't fair. Why did she have to own such fragile stuff anyways?

He tried crying and whining and even refusing to eat. They sent him to bed without the dinner he had pushed away. By the  
time Monday morning was peeking over the horizon he was using his last clip of ammo, sullen silence. He stuck out his lower lip and refused to talk. Normally his mother would get this broken look in her eye and she would relent. This time, however, she waved a stack of homemade pancakes under his nose, soaked in butter and real maple syrup. His mouth watered and his stomach gave a mighty gurgle. She smirked and set them down on the table in front of him.

"I figured since you didn't eat last night you might be hungry," she nearly gloated. The conniving woman had made his favorite breakfast.

Jensen picked up the fork and dug in, admitting defeat. Whether she was more pleased with her victory or the cessation of his self-imposed hunger strike Jensen never could figure out. He barely put up much protest at being strapped into the car, though. Even the resulting drive was surprisingly quiet. He had accepted his fate, for now.

His dad held his hand loosely as they left the confines of the car and approached the little building. Later he would understand that he had been forced to get a summer job to pay for rising household expenses. His elementary teacher's salary hadn't covered the shortfalls left by his mother's high school teacher's salary the past year. At the time, however, he had only understood that he was being dragged against his will to work with Dad because he had been a naughty little boy and Mom needed a break. Or, no more breakage. Whichever way you want to think about it. One little boy all by himself can get very bored very quickly and bored little boys find very inventive ways of destroying your valuables. There was even a hole in the wall from last week that Dad hadn't gotten around to patching up yet. Jensen wasn't a particularly bad or disobedient child, he just wasn't always watching what he was doing.

Jensen was surprised to find that he wasn't to be put with the boys his own age, though. His dad led him to a colorful room filled with kids younger than himself and one kindly looking woman in a flower print dress. He stopped at the doorway and stared until his father put a hand in between his shoulder blades and nudged him inside.

He introduced the two and explained that Jensen would be spending the morning with her. Then he knelt down and turned Jensen to look at him. "Be a good boy for me," he asked in a voice that meant it was just a nicely delivered order.

Jensen nodded.

He smiled, "I'll be back for you in a couple hours." He kissed him on the forehead and ruffled his short blonde hair, "Have fun."

Jensen made a face, but followed the woman further into the room. She explained in a sweet voice that he was going to be her little helper this morning.

He made a face. "I'm not five, lady," he grouched. As nice as the room looked, he wasn't ready to admit he was curious and no longer upset.

"Ok then. Why don't you go over and make some friends and you can help me hand out snacks later," she said brightly, unperturbed by his sullen mood.

Jensen rolled his eyes but obeyed, not knowing what else to do. All the toys were with the others anyways. What happened next turned his opinion of his current predicament completely around. Sitting in a group of girls stacking legos into a multicolored castle while they pranced all over it with their My Little Ponies was a little boy with his soft brown hair in a classic little boy bowl cut.

He sat down next to the castle, careful not to get in the way. "My name's Jensen," he announced.

The younger boy looked over at him curiously. Then he got back to to work. "Jared," he replied and handed over a bright green lego block.

Jensen never recovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know any young children, so please excuse my depiction. I did the best I could with my one child development course for reference. Also, I refuse to use real names for relatives, as several are rather vicious characters that I doubt the real person would bear any resemblance to.


	2. 2: My Secret Soul Mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared makes a discovery.
> 
> WARNINGS: none

**Jared's POV**

Jared had possessed this mark on his shoulder for as long as he could remember. It was a curved feather, colored black with blue and green accenting, in stunning detail, the tip exploding into a flock of little black birds. The pigmented skin spanned his shoulder blade and the birds swooped up onto one side of his neck. He even had the tip one one wing disappearing into his hairline. As far as soul mate marks go, his was huge.

It wasn't until he was twelve though that he learned what it was in his sex education class. It wasn't just some birthmark that was wierdly detailed and never changed no matter how much he grew. A video they had watched in class had explained that some people have soul mate marks, special people. Somewhere on their body they would be born with a patch of skin specially pigmented into intricate designs or depictions. Most marks were only an inch or two in size and often placed on the inner wrist of forearm. These special people have one person in all the world meant only for them, twinned souls, who would wear the exact same mark. Jared realized that he might be one of them.

When he had seen Jensen next he asked him, "Do you have a soul mate mark?" They were sitting on the grass at the neighborhood park, taking a break from kicking rocks around in lieu of a soccer ball. Jared had lost their ball yesterday and his mom had refused to replace it right away.

The question was innocent, but Jensen gave him wide eyes and swallowed. "Yeah, dude, I do," he answered.

His eyes lit up. He wanted to know. He wanted to see another soul mate mark up close so he could compare. So he could be absolutely certain there was someone, a perfect someone, just for him out there waiting to be found. No one else in his class would admit to having one. "Can I see it," he asked. He had no idea where it could be. He had seen Jensen stripped down to his boxers and there hadn't been a mark on him except for the freckles he tended to collect.

Jensen squirmed, "It's kinda in a weird place." He looked...embarrassed?

Jared shoved his shoulder gently, rocking him where they sat for emphasis. "What, is it on your butt," he asked playfully.

His friend turned bright red at that, his cheeks reddening around the freckles. "No," he replied a bit too quickly and bit bit too loudly.

Jared was even more curious now. He performed a move he had managed to perfect just last week. He pursed his lips and tried to look like a kicked puppy.

It worked. "Alright, but you can't laugh," he said seriously. Jensen undid his belt and then his pants and peeled one side down to expose a good portion of his hip. Curled there on his hipbone and extending to the front below his clothing was an exact match to his own mark.

He reached out to touch the tinted skin and Jensen quickly rearranged his clothing, concealing the mark. Jared yanked his hand back, sad that Jensen wouldn't let him feel it warm on his fingers. "Why didn't you tell me," he sounded hurt. There was no way Jensen didn't know they were soul mates. Jared had never been shy about running around shirtless and he had to have noticed how similar, how identical, their marks were.

Jensen seemed to understand the problem. He turned and grabbed one of Jared's hands. "Don't think for one moment I regret this. Or you," he urged. For a moment he was silent then he sighed, "I just didn't want to lose you." He let him go and laid down in the grass, watching the clouds go by overhead.

Jared's head blocked his vision purposefully. He wanted an answer, not an evasion. "Why would you think you could lose me," he pressed. For a twelve year old he could be very persistent. His father had once told him he would make good attorney one day. Jared doubted it.

Jensen snorted, "Dude, have you met your mom? She isn't exactly my biggest fan." He yanked out a blade of grass and put it between his teeth. "If she knew, she would separate us for sure. She's still hoping you'll wise up one day and ditch me."

Jared had thought about it. His mother had made several offhand comments about Jensen being 'from the wrong side of the tracks' and her thinly veiled insults as to his parentage were getting worse. Initially she had been tolerant of Jensen, thinking Jared could use the experience on his college application essay. When Jared had shown no signs of ending things she had begun a subtle campaign. The two had only grown closer, however, and now Jared knew exactly why. Somehow, without even knowing it, they had recognized each other instantly. "I don't care what she wants," he finally admitted.

Jensen, apparently done with the conversation, tapped his leg and stood. "C'mon, I feel Lara Croft calling my name. I bet I can beat your time in the Wreck of The Maria Doria," he announced.

Jared laughed and shook his head. "You are such a geek," he said fondly.


	3. 3: Chillax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ice cream and boys. Need I say more?
> 
> WARNINGS: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I'm breaking a trope. Jensen's parents are not abusive. Fancy that.

**Jensen's POV**

Jensen had known Jared for only a few months when he had gotten his first glimpse of the massive design on his shoulder and realized it matched his own exactly. His parents, being teachers, had always been good about answering what seemed to be even the most idiotic of questions as thoroughly as possible. They had a sort of trust built up.

So when Jensen walked into the kitchen one evening and asked, "Why does Jared have this on his shoulder," while pointing to his hip, his mother didn't laugh or evade. She sat him down and explained about soul mates. Sure, he had heard the term but he didn't know the details. When she was done nearly an hour later Jensen had a new book in his collection. It was titled _Twinned Souls, An Exploration_. It wasn't one of those picture books with fancy painted pages and small words. It was a thick hardcover book with footnotes and citations. Jensen wasn't intimidated, however. He had first read and understood _Stardance_ at the tender age of eight. He could handle one overly verbose adult handbook on soul mates. He would have liked a couple graphs at least, or a diagram, to break up the monotonous lines of text, though. The prose was a bit dry. The sections detailing sexual relations hadn't even been interesting. He'd read a few lines in and skipped the whole chapter. Maybe he'd find a picture book for that one.

Jensen was a couple weeks past celebrating his sixteenth birthday when he truly understood what a soul mate was. Objectively he knew. Just about everyone knew the basics, but until you experienced it for yourself it was almost like explaining the color green to a blind ferret. The concept simply didn't translate well. One day he looked at Jared, really looked at the lanky teen and realized that he never wanted to be without him in his life in some way. He was almost positive Jared was straight and it worried him because Jensen wasn't. He wondered if that would drive him away.

"You ok over there," Jard asked him, his voice pulling Jensen from his thoughts.

He nodded, "Yeah. I'm good." He wasn't lying. As far as days went, today was a good one. It could always get better, he thought as he smushed the cherry ice cream cone he had been eating into the tip of Jared's nose and snickered at the resultant bitch face. Jared had used it on him several times to great effect in the past. Now Jensen just liked to see how many ways he could make him use it.

Jared responded by smooshing Jensen's entire face with his fudge ripple cone. His entire face. "Cold, isn't it," he asked in  
between fits of laughter.

Jensen took some chunks of the frozen treat from his face and snaked his hand under Jared's shirt when he wasn't paying attention.

Jared's stomach practically went concave as he reflexively contracted his abdominal muscles into his spine. He sucked in a breath and squeaked embarrassingly as the temperature shock hit him. "I hate you," he grumped.

Jensen laughed but took pity on him. He stripped off his shirt and wiped them both down. "You can't hate me," he offered.

Jared turned hazel eyes to meet his vibrant green and replied, "You shouldn't know that already," his tone less grumpy.

Jensen gave him that thousand watt smile the girls had been swooning over. "That was a guess," he admitted. It was a good feeling, knowing he had been right.

The corners of Jared's mouth curled up in a smirk. Jensen was nearly impossible to resist.


	4. 4: Helicopter Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared is in the grip of adolescence and is trying to figure out what that means.
> 
> WARNINGS: none

**Jared's POV**

Jared was just shy of fourteen when his mother stepped up her campaign. She had not been subtle about voicing her desire to see her youngest progeny rise to greater heights than his father. Lately she had been dropping hints about a Supreme Court Justice slot on his horizon. Jensen could do nothing to further those political goals and, in her opinion, was little more than a distraction they could not afford if he was to graduate law school, top of his class, before his twenty-third birthday.

"Jensen, honey, what do you plan to do with yourself after high school," she asked sweetly. The words were laced with little thorns, poised to draw blood.

Jensen quickly chewed the bite of cheese laden ziti he had stuffed into his mouth a half second before and swallowed. "I, uh, haven't decided," he replied.

The look on her face was triumphant and a little smug. She wasn't evil or cruel, but there were times Jared hated his mother. "He was talking about going to the community college," he helpfully added in an attempt to bail out his friend.

She smiled wider and he saw teeth, "Well, why didn't you say so? You'd make a wonderful kindergarden teacher." Yep, Mrs. Padalecki hated Jensen's guts. It was official. He just hadn't wanted to believe it.

The rest of dinner, all twenty minutes of it, was laced with sugar coated sarcasm as to the dubious benefits of limiting yourself to only an associates degree, no better than a certificate.

Mr. Padalecki had finished his dinner early and retired to his study in record time, leaving his youngest undefended at the dinner table. Jared was a bit jealous of that. He didn't have an excuse to escape before she had spoken her mind, at length. She never raised her voice, but she had her own way of being downright terrifying. To make things worse, his father had even mentioned that his wife had a point and that he had to start thinking about his future if he wanted to achieve greatness in his life. Needless to say, dinner had not been an entirely pleasant affair.

"Why don't you ever kiss me," Jared later blurted out. They were lounging on his bed with unfinished homework papers scattered everywhere. At the time he had thought it a perfectly logical question.

Jensen, however, nearly choked on his own tongue before he answered, "Dude, you're thirteen." Spots of color bloomed on his cheeks. He quickly ducked his head and got very interested in the trigonometry worksheet due tomorrow morning.

Jared started scribbling on a worksheet for his history teacher as he composed his thoughts. "I mean, we are soul mates, right," he pressed.

"Yes," Jensen answered quickly.

Jared looked over at him. "Then why don't we act like it? There is supposed to be this great undeniable attraction and stuff. I don't feel any of it."

Jensen suddenly looked like he had swallowed a toad.

Jared peered over at him through his bangs, "You ok?"

He blinked, cleared his expression, and nodded. "I'm fine." He made a grab for his last uncompleted paper. "You just caught me off-guard." Jared hummed. "My mom gave me this book on soul mates when I was ten. It says you probably won't feel much of anything until you grow some hair in embarrassing places," he explained. "Something about hormones and sexual maturity."

"You mean like a safety switch," he asked. It made sense. Children weren't emotionally or biologically equipped to handle a fully mature relationship. Maybe fate agreed. "And if I never feel it," he asked. He was worried about that one. There was this amorphous need to be near Jensen but it wasn't the sort of profound all-consuming bond he had envisioned.

He felt Jensen tap his knee in a show of friendly affection. "You worry too much with that big brain of yours," Jensen announced. He leaned over to peer at the papers Jared had spread out in front of him. "Don't you have a Gatsby to handle," he prodded.

Jared made a face, scrunching his nose. He really didn't like the reaction papers his teacher had assigned him to write this year. He preferred more active novels not centered around a doomed love story. The last couple had left him a bit depressed. Romeo and Juliet the previous year had been horrible. He had barely managed to get through it in time. "I can do that tomorrow," he insisted. "Answer my question, Jen."

"You know the answer to that," he replied.

Jared thought for a moment. "My teacher said that some soul mates are never more than plutonic friends."

"Are you sure you are only thirteen years old," he grumped. When Jared didn't rise to the bait Jensen admitted defeat. "If that is all we will ever be. I mean, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Ever." Then he grumbled, "Freakin' terrier with a bone."

Jared set aside his paper and took Jensen's free hand in his. His thumb brushed circles over the skin of his palm. Maybe this meant Jensen wouldn't be upset if Jared went with Andrea and her friends to the lake this weekend instead of to the zoo with him like he had promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be a slower burn than I expected. Please comment! I thrive on feedback.


	5. 5: Twisted Metal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life throws some curve balls.
> 
> WARNING: minor character death

**Jensen's POV**

Two weeks later Jensen was sitting in a hard plastic chair. Jared was sitting stone-faced next to him. His skin was pale, clearly in shock. It was the first time Jared's mother had asked him to come over. Her voice had wavered enough to jumpstart his worrying and the content of her request had only made it worse. He had jumped into his old beater, a car his father claimed would help him build character, and found Jared sitting outside on the grass in their spot.

Jared had been staring, just staring at the horizon and twisting his hands together. Jensen had never seen such pain on a person's face. Getting him into the car and then to the hospital was almost like moving a robot, or a puppet. He had been completely obedient and passive. It had scared Jensen. Now, he was like a statue. All Jensen wanted to see right now as that carefree smile framed with dimples that he had loved all this time. Just one hint that Jared was going to be alright.

It was when the doctor came out and told them they had lost Jared's father, that his injuries from the crash had simply been too severe, that Jared finally broke down. That marble facade cracked and Jensen found this version of Jared was even harder to watch. Jared bent over his knees and just sobbed, hiding his tear-streaked face behind that floppy hair of his. Jensen offered what comfort he could give, a gentle hand rubbing lightly between his shoulder blades and an offer to be there when he was wanted. He didn't know what else he could do. He was beginning to believe he had been forgotten when Jared's hand snapped out and clutched at his knee, his thumb rubbing circles on his jeans. He nearly sighed in relief.

Jensen's parents and little sister arrived not long after. His mother made a beeline for Jared's mother, who was doing her best to appear strong. The two women disappeared for almost an hour and when they returned her makeup was a mess but she seemed less fragile. She even seemed grateful for the Ackles' support. Jensen would discover later that not even his actions on that day could effect her plans for her son. Those plans had never included him.

Jared's episode of sobbing quieted to silently falling tears until those too dried up. Red rimmed, watery, eyes turned to Jensen, "Why him?"

Jensen wrapped an arm around him shoulders, trying to give his soul mate some of his strength. "I don't know, Jay. I don't know," he replied. He wanted desperately to have an answer, a reason for Mr. Padalecki's death.

"Then what do you know, Jen," he demanded angrily.

"I know I love you," he answered, keeping his tone soft and sincere. He had only said it a couple times before. He meant it now just as he had meant it then. Jared had yet to say it back, but Jensen hoped he was reading his actions correctly. Hoped he was correct in thinking that he would one day feel the same. He couldn't expect a thirteen year old boy to understand just yet.

Jensen was disappointed when Jared didn't respond. He did squeeze Jensen's hand, though, before he got up to check on his mother. Jensen had to hold on to that and believe.

Over the next few months Jared got increasingly distant. He would cancel study sessions without much warning, habitually miss the ride to school in Jensen's car, and sometimes put off calling him back for days. Jared's birthday had been a quiet affair, just the two of them and their favorite spot during lunch. Gradually they spent less and less time together until one day Jensen realized Jared hadn't talked to him in nearly two weeks and he hadn't been to the Padalecki household since the funeral.

Amanda Ackles was only twenty minutes younger than her brother Jensen. Where his hair was straight hers was tightly curled. He was all lean muscle and she still had enough baby fat to conceal what were fast becoming sleek knock-out curves. He was dreading the day when everyone else noticed the change in his sister. He really didn't want to beat up half the student body defending her honor. At the moment he was contemplating putting her in a headlock, though. She had inherited their father's tenacity. "Jensen, are you listening to me," she asked sharply. Jensen was convinced she had learned the art of nagging from their mother.

"Yes, 'Manda," he replied automatically.

"No you weren't," she insisted. "You are lucky to have a soul mate. Why aren't you with him right now?" Amanda didn't have a soul mate mark. It wasn't surprising. No one in their extended family did. He was unique.

He looked down at his hands. "He doesn't want me there," he explained.

"Bullshit," she snapped. "He just doesn't know how to ask for help."

Jensen chewed on his lip and watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon. The chorus of insects got louder and more diverse as the sky got darker.

Amanda punched him in the shoulder. "Jenny, you dipshit," she cursed.

"Ow," He complained. He rubbed the spot, feigning pain. "What was that for," he asked.

"You and I are going to Jared's tomorrow morning and we are going to fix this," she announced.

"He just lost his dad. I'm giving him space," he insisted. It still hurt, though. Jared's assertion that he still felt nothing from their soul mate bond kept playing over and over in his head.

"But, I'll go. I'll go," he added very quickly.

Amanda still smacked him soundly upside the head. "You bet your ass," she crowed.

The next day Jared was clutching on to Jensen like he was a lifeline in the tsunami, whispering apologies into his skin. His end of their bond sang within him at the closeness of his other half. His smug sister just stood to the side looking eminently pleased with herself and he couldn't find it in him to be even the slightest bit upset that she had been right. He'd never give her the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the middle of Heme and Lymph Pathology so I may go radio silent for a while. This material is drowning me. This does not mean I am not working on this fic, however. I'll try my best to write on the bus home every night and get another update posted as soon as I can.
> 
> I made liberal use of http://www.thesaurus.com


	6. 6: Intermission 1, No Plot Intended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy reprieve from plot. 
> 
> WARNING: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of out of order as the next one will start with the funeral and end sometime after Jared's birthday.

**Jared's POV**

Jared's birthday was on a Wednesday. Jensen skipped lunch and drove over to Jared's school, who was mortified to discover the older boy acting like a big goof to get his attention. The entire class had been huffing and puffing their way around an empty field doing a variety of simple exercises along the way. The few athletically inclined individuals predictably received death glares as they lapped their classmates for the second or third time. Jared himself had completed the circuit four times already and was halfway through another round when something along the fence caught his attention. 

There was Jensen waving his letterman jacket in the air like a maniac. He was even jumping up and down. Jared's face flamed in embarrassment, his own or Jensen's he wasn't sure. The moment Jensen realized he had an audience he made it ten times worse. In bright neon green lettering on a big piece of white poster board he had written 'Happy Birthday, Jay' and surrounded the cheerful letters with big sparkly exclamation points and lopsided stars. 

Jared wasn't normally shy. He had not been especially reserved as a child. Looking at Jensen, his grin huge, he couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed any longer. Sure, the teasing would amp up for a few days, maybe weeks, but he had experienced worse. So, instead of yelling for Jensen to get lost he jogged over with a smile and launched himself across the fence to drag the older boy in a hug. It was only a bonus that Jensen as a consequence dropped the sign and stopped bouncing around. Maybe. 

They made plans to meet after school. Jensen couldn't resist, however, letting loose a wolf whistle as he ran back to his classmates. Jared rewarded him with an upright middle finger before he got too far away. 

They met at their former lunch spot, back during the brief time that they had attended the same school. Jensen was acting all cool, propped up against the oak tree with his arms crossed. The look was ruined by his soccer uniform pants and math club polo shirt, but Jared gave him points for effort. His smile, though, was warm and sweet. "Jay," he called as Jared approached, "Where ya been, man? Class let out ten minutes ago." 

Jared flopped down on the ground between two large roots and sighed, "My teacher is 'concerned'," air quotes, "and she thinks I came back to school too soon." He rolled his head towards the other boy and nearly buried his nose in the short hairs at the back of his neck. "She wanted to talk to me about seeing the counselor after school," he mumbled into the other boys skin. 

Jensen had followed him down, shoulder to shoulder, till they both sat on the ground. He crossed legs underneath him and hummed. "Do you think it'll help," he asked carefully. 

Jared shrugged. He wasn't sure what he wanted. "Can I talk to you," he blurted out. 

Jensen took one look at those hazel puppy dog eyes and couldn't find a reason to deny him. "Yeah, dude, whenever you want," he replied. Neither of them said much for a while. Jared grabbed on to Jensen's hand and held on, needing someone warm and alive to anchor him. The older boy predictably didn't let the silent stand for long, though. Always on the move, he nudged Jared's shoulder with his own and tossed a wrapped package into his lap. "Happy Birthday, Jay," he said smiling. 

The package landed with a plop and conformed to his legs, proving something soft and pliable was inside. Jared was thankful for the change in subject and carefully peeled back the newspaper to reveal a navy blue hoodie with a zipper pull in the shape of a guitar. Simple. Wonderful. He pulled it on over his clothing despite the lingering heat of the day. "Thanks," he said, and he meant it. 

Jensen beamed, his bright smile doing something to the butterflies in Jared's stomach. He briefly puzzled over the sensation and concluded that it was different than when he and his classmates would drool over the girls at school. He was curious if it would feel any different when he kissed him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am having so much fun with this fic I have no clue how long it will end up being. I do know, however, that I have a nasty bunch of exams coming up and I won't be able to update for several weeks.


	7. 7: Smoke Over Troubled Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral and its aftermath.
> 
> WARNING: Brief mentioning of underage sex. Not explicit. Reference to minor character death. Infidelity if you squint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is a long one. Hope it makes up for the delay in posting. This chapter fought me. Also, I neglected to remember that summer break exists, so Jared and Jensen have swapped birth dates.

**Jared's POV**

Jared barely remembered the funeral and the wake. It had been a black tie affair full of white lilies, pink champagne, his father's business associates, and his mother's favorite sushi chef. She had been fully in her element and he was sure she would somehow use this period of playing the grieving widow to advantage. Most likely to his own advantage as she saw it. She had a weird way of showing maternal love, but that didn't mean she didn't try. 

There hadn't been much there for him. The wake had evolved into just another business meeting, an opportunity to network. In one corner was the chief executive of a medium-sized pharmaceutical company. By the bar stood the daughter of a state senator, who just so happened to be sticking her tongue down the throat of the former district attorney. The Dean of his father's alma mater had already swung by to express his pleasure at Jared's expected enrollment in a few years time. His place had been reserved. All he had to do was pass the minimum requirements for admission. This political schmoozing was something his mother thrived on and he couldn't be angry at her for it. He knew she was hiding in it. He didn't belong, though. Had never belonged. The rented suit was itchy, his feet hurt, and he really wanted his best friend. 

It still worried him. All the chat rooms, forums, and official informational websites had said he should start to feel something by now. He had passed all of the usual indications of puberty. The peach fuzz he could call facial hair was embarrassingly sparse, but his voice had stopped cracking last month. Yet, he still hadn't felt that indescribable something that he had read all about. His soul mate bond remained stubbornly quiescent, despite the massive size of the mark representing it. He was beginning to think he was broken. There was even an entire online community for that too and he had joined almost as soon as he had stumbled upon it. Their suggestions ranged from the plausible to the laughably outlandish. He had culled out the worse and was currently working through a list of things to try or to avoid in order to fix the problem. 

Jared was so lost in his thoughts that he had almost forgotten where he was. Then it was like magic. For a moment the crowd seemed to part and as if Jared had summoned him there he was. Jensen was walking towards him, his bright green eyes warm. The older boy walked up to him and pressed a mug of hot cocoa into his hands, closing his fingers around the ceramic handle. He even appeared to be just as uncomfortable in his own pressed dress slacks and crisp white shirt. He fidgeted for a moment with the tie wrapped around his neck before giving up and settling down on the couch next to Jared. 

"Hey," he said. Jensen's voice had acquired a good amount of depth recently. Jared wanted to press his ear on the other boy's chest just to feel the vibration as he spoke. 

"Hey," he said instead. His eyes were now fixed on the mug. He took a drink, savoring the sweet brew. It didn't taste like a mix. Had his mother been thoughtful enough to have it catered? He snorted at the thought. Doubtful. It was more likely that Mrs. Ackles had sent it just for the two of them. 

Jensen snickered, "Dude, your brother is chatting up a grandmother." 

He looked up and scanned the crowd. His older brother, visiting from college for the weekend, waved to him like they were at a ballgame and not a wake. He scowled. As much as he loved Russell, his brother didn't have a clue. They hadn't spoken in months. Showing up for father's funeral didn't automatically make them best buds. Russell looked at him curiously before turning back to his conversation. Sure enough, the woman he was engrossed in conversation with was easily over sixty. Jared didn't have the heart to tell the other boy that as the wife of the town mayor he should have recognized her. "Mother thinks I need a more challenging school," he announced instead. It wasn't even half the problems he was having right now, but it was something he could complain about. Something they might be able to fix. 

"Doesn't my school have a magnet program," he asked knowing full well it did. He was enrolled in the physical sciences program and wouldn't admit to the nearly perfect grades he had earned in his college level physics and chemistry courses. Not to mention the fact that he had maxed out the school's already accelerated math program and was now working on diff-eq with the calculus teacher during his free period. Jared had been forced to hack the school system to find all that out. 

Jared just grunted, "Yep." He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's session with the tutor. Math was not his thing. Never would be. He would be happy to squeak by with the C, thank you very much. It was kind of funny, when they were little Jensen had been the reading whiz. Now Jared couldn't even try to get a bad grade in essay writing and Jensen had his head buried so far into numbers his essays had started sounding like a theorem proof. 

Jensen smiled. "Then it's settled. We'll talk her into sending you there," he said as if that made it a done deal. He finished off his own mug of cocoa and looked intently at the ceramic like it could manifest more on command. It didn't. 

The smile didn't last. Jared went on to tell him about the private boarding school his mother was considering for next year. It was a prestigious school and boasted an accelerated program that looked challenging enough even for him. There was one big problem. The closed campus was two states away and visitors were not allowed without expressed permission from a parent or guardian, something his mother was not likely to give. 

Jared had a momentary lapse of judgment. Instead of a manly hug or a cuff to the shoulder he leaned over and brushed his lips against the other boy's without warning. In full view of everyone. Jensen startled but relaxed enough to participate. When he pulled back the kiss had achieved the desired effect. Jensen was in a much better mood. "Don't worry, Jen. You won't lose me, no matter what, because I refuse to lose you," he said. 

"Yeah, we'll figure out something," Jensen agreed. "But...uhhh...We probably shouldn't do that for a while." 

"What! Why," he asked, alarmed. Had he done it wrong? 

Jensen seemed to understand the problem. "It was nice," he quickly added. "But, dude, you just turned fourteen." He scratched the back of his neck, his face glowing just a bit scarlet. "I liked it. I just feel like, well, that I'm taking advantage." He shrugged, but before Jared could reply he turned with a grin. "You want to get out of here?" Jared couldn't think of anything he wanted to do more. 

When Jared returned to school his teachers were very understanding. His classmates were not as much. It was good, though. It reminded him that nothing else had changed, that the world had gone on unawares. His life wasn't over. It had been waiting for him to come back, a comforting thought. His birthday came and went unobserved except for Jensen's gift. His mother had been too buried in her own grief to notice. Jared was beginning to understand that she had actually loved her husband for more than his social standing and the realization made him see his previous life just a little differently. 

This parental thoughtlessness compounded by his own very real grief had consequences, though. His grades began to slip. Homework was forgotten, test questions made no sense, and even his textbooks no longer held any interest for him. Initially he ignored the problem, assuming he would get his feet back underneath him shortly. He had just lost a parent. He was bound to have some issues coming out of it. His mother was not so patient. She snapped out of her self-imposed exile with a vengeance. One very tedious parent teacher meeting made something abundantly clear, things had to change. He had to choose between grief counseling or private tutoring. By the end of the meeting he knew what he wanted. 

Jared quickly declined the offer of counseling. He chose, instead, the second option and his mother happily hired a tutor. So, starting the day after his birthday he had been spending a couple hours three days a week working on whatever subject seemed to be troubling him. Things began to look up and his teachers were noticing his improvement. The old Jared was slowly making a comeback. Despite his soaring test scores, though, his teachers were still complaining about his lack of interest during class. He had been forced to take a home a note the other day saying just that. His mother had not been pleased, and that would be stating it mildly. He had never heard her voice achieve that octave before and his ears were still ringing. She was convinced he had already damaged his chances at getting into an Ivy League school. 

Jared wasn't pleased either. He had been spending less and less time with Jensen trying to make her happy and it wasn't working. It was just making all three of them miserable with his perpetually foul mood. Maybe that is the reason he reacted so violently at what came next. 

Jared was walking to his tutor's house today and had decided to take a detour fifteen minutes out of his way. The high school loomed ahead of him, this great aged beast of a building the council was considering replacing. He couldn't see himself walking those halls anymore than he could imagine going to a boarding school next year instead. 

It wasn't the school, though, that was holding his attention just now. He was staring, transfixed at the sight in front of him. He didn't know if he should be horrified or strangely turned on. Jensen had some blonde twink with skater jeans and piercings bent backwards over the hood of his car. His tongue was in the boy's mouth and one of the boy's hands was down the front of Jensen's pants. He couldn't see much but he could imagine what Jensen's face looked like right about now. Would his eyes be slitted, his face flushed? Would his lips be soft and red, plump? 

His fingers itched to feel the muscle beneath Jensen's clothing, wanting to know just how different he would be from the few girls Jared had known. It made him angry, furious. 

Jensen made this sound suddenly, like a wounded animal, and his back went rigid. Jared saw red. So did the twink once he broke his nose and maybe bruised a few ribs. The kid was favoring one side as he made a break for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to evave2 who made me realize I was completely ignoring the power of the internet in this fic.


	8. 8: Don't Fake Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen feels the wrath of Jared's green eyed monster.
> 
> WARNING: Brief mentioning underage sex. Not explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final configuration of this chapter ambushed me as I was recovering from my latest exam. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did when I was finally able to stitch the bits together.

**Jensen's POV**

The idea of college had always been this glittering golden idea off in the distance for Jensen. He really wanted to go and had been told many times he wouldn't have much trouble getting in. He had even been persuaded into taking the SATs, and earning a respectable score. The day he got the test result in the mail had been exceedingly stressful for the ten minutes in between the envelope landing in his hands and his shaking grip actually opening it up to read the paper inside. He had spent the next two hours recovering from the shock and only fully felt himself again after calling Jared with the good news. 

Despite this, he had been hesitant. He just didn't want to burden his parents with a college tuition bill on top of the cost of raising him. He wanted to take over from there. His father had gotten this pained look on his face when he mentioned that part. Didn't he know he could never be a burden? 

His circumstances, however, changed. In his junior year his mother had completed her PhD and recently got hired as an associate professor at the nearby university. She was home less and driving more, but her entire demeanor would light up when she talked about her new job and her new students. It made Jensen want to enroll even more. It did occur to him on several occasions that her stories might have been aimed for just that result. His mother was a crafty one. 

One perk of her shiny new employment position was free tuition on up to eight credit hours per semester, credit hours he qualified for as her son. In addition, his school counselor and his calculus teacher put their heads together and helped him submit applications to promising scholarships. Now there were several envelopes waiting for him on the kitchen table, had been for days, and he was hesitant to open them. No matter what they said his life would change. 

Eventually Amanda pestered him into reading them. What else were sisters for? He got three acceptance letters and two of the smaller scholarships. His sister's excited squealing had been even louder than previously thought possible. The impact had left him a little lightheaded. He was going to college. 

Of course the lack of oxygen had apparently been solely to his brain. The common sense cortex. One of the freshman on his soccer team had been not so subtly hitting on him since before Christmas. He was funny and cute and somewhere in the jumbled mess of a brain he had been stuck with that day he had not recognized disaster when it was staring him in the face and offering to give him a blow job. His good mood had apparently overridden his impulse control as well.

To compound this series of events, Jared had seen enough to damn him. His attempt at celebrating had not been well received. In fact, Jared had broken the boy's nose, ensuring Jensen would probably never get a chance at him again. Another thing he hadn't expected was getting slammed into the hood of his car and held there. Certain parts of Jensen's anatomy had gotten very interested. It had been almost physically painful when he was subsequently let go and Jared stormed off without saying a word. 

He managed to corner his stubborn soul mate several days later. "What is wrong with you," he growled. Inwardly he winced. He could have asked that better. 

"What is wrong with me," Jared's voice sounded dangerous. "What is wrong with you? One moment you are all 'Dude, you're only fourteen' and the next you have Kyle fucking Chadwell halfway down your pants. We both know he's not much older than I am." He twisted Jensen's shirt in his fist and Jensen's back got very friendly with the wall. 

Jensen's new goal in life was not to make Jared this angry ever again, no matter how hot he was looking right now. "Umm," he very intelligently mumbled. 

Jared narrowed his eyes, "Unless your next words are 'I'm sorry', I don't want to hear it." 

Yep, definitely hot. A goddamned volcano with furious hazel eyes and floppy brown hair. Perhaps that was why he opened his stupid mouth and said something rather dumb, "I thought you didn't feel anything." 

"For someone as intelligent as you are, that was a really oafish thing to say," he snarled. Jensen's head collided with the building behind him as Jared shoved at his chest. He wondered if the younger boy had noticed he wasn't putting up a fight. "Just because I don't feel anything through the bond doesn't mean I don't feel anything for you." His index finger jabbed hard at his pectoral, right over his heart. That was going to leave a mark. 

Jared released him and turned to leave, his shoulders still bunched with tension. Without thinking Jensen reached out and fastened a hand on his bicep. "Don't go," he started. There was no way he was going to let the other boy storm off angry again. Jared turned with the movement and swung a closed fist. The punch, backed by the weight of Jared's body, caused Jensen to release his grip. His vision whited out and pain exploded between his eyes. He was left holding his nose while it dripped blood, tears leaking from his eyes. 

Jensen was a bit confused. He hadn't expected the other boy to care what he did. By his own admission their soul mate bond was hurtfully silent. The feeling wasn't improved when he subsequently shoved him back up against the wall, his body following the movement. He had expected Jared to give him the cold shoulder again, not crowd against him pelvis to sternum. Jared pressed against him and hissed, "If you are willing to screw that little blonde twink you will give me what I want." 

Jensen whispered, "I'm sorry," and let him do whatever he wanted.


	9. 9: Log In, Cut Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from BlueJay@'s chat log history. 
> 
> WARNING: Very mild profanity. Like one word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a slight case of writer's block concerning the next three chapters. Please accept this as a peace offering.

**Jared's POV**

April 13th 1523 UST  
  
_BlueJay@ has joined_  
_GabbyKins14 has joined_  
GabbyKins14: yo  
l0nch: Theory suggests that may be a correct assumption.  
jarvice: gabby! welcome back newb  
BlueJay@: Someone suggested I come here.  
growch0: what s up  
GabbyKins14: Hah. No longer the newb. :P  
GabbyKins14: Soul mate whoes? Do tell.  
BlueJay@: I am an ass and I don't know how I can fix it.  
l0nch: That is one of the many reasons this room exists, Blue.  
_daboss has joined_  
daboss: Gabby. dude. any luck on the home front?  
growch0: explain, blue  
GabbyKins14: so, like, my soul mate bond went radio silent last month, right? i get flickers of it so i know its still there. i tried the meditation. it sorta worked. for about 10 mins  
BlueJay@: I kinda punched my soul mate and then made out with him against a brick wall. Without stopping to see if he was ok with it. I don't know if he'll ever talk to me again.  
daboss: harsh, man. but if he wasn't into it you would have felt it through your bond.  
l0nch: Gabby, keep working on your meditation and your cleansing thoughts. Your problem might take a lot more time and effort to fully resolve.  
jarvice: ive got a faulty bond too. my mate didnt want company while fucking her husband. i relly didnt want to feel that either. dunno who damaged it  
BlueJay@: I can't feel my soul bond.  
growch0: on a scale of 1-10, how active is your bond, blue?  
GabbyKins14: Blue, step 1 is wanting to fix it. Have l0nch send you his trusty meditation guide.  
daboss: like at all? really?  
GabbyKins14: Mine is at a 4 some days and a 2 others.  
BlueJay@: -5?  
jarvice: still sitting at a 3 most days. caught a stray burst of panic the other day. scared the shit out of me. turned out she had lost her mother in laws chocolate cake recipe.  
l0nch: Why -5, Blue? Is that consistent? Do you ever feel anything at all?  
BlueJay@: No.  
growch0: how old ru?  
daboss: dont answer that. we dont do personal info.  
_BuzzBee has joined_  
daboss: thanks to you fine peeps, my bond is humming along at 6-8 most days. no complaints.  
BuzzBee: Are we doing the bond activity check again? Put me down for a patchy 2 today.  
l0nch: Has anything changed since the incident, Blue?   
growch0: 9. bond not a problem. committment phobia  
jarvice: i lashed out. called her selfish cow   
GabbyKins14: bond 911, blue   
BlueJay@: You mean since I physically and then sexually assaulted my soul mate? That incident? No. But, he's not answering the phone.   
daboss: step 1, grovel. apologise with emphasis.   
BuzzBee: You need to fix your relationship with your mate before you'll see any progress with your bond. That goes for you too, jarvice.   
GabbyKins14: has he reported you? anyone else?   
BlueJay@: No one saw and I haven't been arrested yet.   
growch0: what daboss said. be real   
l0nch: I suggest you make an entire day devoted to apologizing to your soul mate. Talk to him with your words rather than your body. And promise to never even remotely do that again.   
jarvice: it might have saved mine, blue. dont waste the chance   
daboss: pm me if u need groveling ideas   
growch0: buzz, why the weak bond rating?   
BlueJay@: Thanks, guys. I'll work on this and let you know how it goes. 

* * *

June 3rd 1546 UST  
  
_BlueJay@ has joined_    
BlueJay@: Anyone on tonight?   
K15Pretty: Blue!   
daboss: Oh look, its trouble in paradise. How's it hangin'?  
GabbyKins14: Penis!  
K15Pretty: *face palm* Gabby, put down the chocolate.  
l0nch: We were just discussing the merits of marmite.  
BlueJay@: I am happy to report progress on the home front.  
K15Pretty: No we weren't.  
daboss: So, sex? I want details.   
l0nch: Progress as in the meditation techniques I suggested have had some effect?   
BlueJay@: I am officially going out with my soul mate. We had our first official date tonight.  
GabbyKins14: (URL)   
GabbyKins14: Why online?   
K15Pretty: A date is good.   
daboss: and   
BlueJay@: No luck on the meditation, the tea, or the stinky lotion. Anyone else have any ideas?  
BlueJay@: no sex b4 date 4   
K15Pretty: OMG Gabby. That was a porn site! WTF   
daboss: My man!   
l0nch: You might want to seek professional help. I'm tapped out.   
GabbyKins: hehe   
daboss: Hold on... AFK   
BlueJay@: Pretty, are you and Gabby?   
GabbyKins: ugh. hells no. cousin.   
K15Pretty: Gabby, shut it. Blue, did you try (URL)   
l0nch: That website is in french.   
BuzzBee: back. what i miss   
GabbyKins: The sad ramblings of a bunch of people with soul mate trouble.   
BlueJay@: Is he still mad?   
GabbyKins: Royally pissed. He's convinced that I am shutting him out.   
l0nch: Still haven't figured out what changed?   
_CBearsRULZ has joined_    
GabbyKins: nope   
BuzzBee: Couples therapy is slowly working for me.   
K15Pretty: spill   
CBearsRULZ: hey ya'll. this the soul mate troubles room?   
GabbyKins: what she said   
BuzzBee: I felt something at the last session. Need someone that specializes in soul mates, though.  
daboss: (URL) Blue, get in touch with this woman. Keep us posted.   
BlueJay@: TY. GTG.


	10. 10: When He Was Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected excerpts from Jensen's journal.
> 
> WARNING: mild profanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be various ways to fast forward with occasional bits on important events.

**Jensen's POV**

April 22nd 

Jared kissed me! I mean he's kissed me before but I think he really meant it this time. He had this whole thing planned out, you know, as an apology. He joined me on my morning run. I wasn't exactly happy to see him. The neighborhood between ours isn't exactly safe and had just waltzed through there at six in the morning on his bike. Idiot. So it didn't exactly start out well. I yelled. It was so sweet, though. He ran the whole way with this backpack bouncing on his back and when we reached the halfway point he made this big fuss about being tired. It was all lies. He had brought breakfast. It wasn't gourmet. It was fresh fruit and two power shakes. But, he even laid down a blanket right there in the park. And he kept going on and on about how sorry he was and how horrible he felt. Of course I forgave him. After a little lecture on the merits of anger management classes during the walk back. 

I don't know if I'm ready for an actual date yet. I mean I know I am partially to blame. I have a fucking soul mate and I wasn't acting like it. It's not Jared's fault I was feeling the bond at ten and he still can't. Freaking mystical bullshit, but it's not unusual. I just don't know what to do. 

* * *

June 3rd

It's date night tonight. Wish me luck!

* * *

June 16th 

I started my college summer class today. Something easy, light, and maybe even interesting. Design Concepts and Technology with Professor Mark Janus. Ten minutes in I was so bored. I can't wait for the real lectures to start. 

Jared and I celebrated my first day at college. I took him to the BBQ place. The cute little kicked puppy look on his face when I refused to let him pay was, well, cute. 

* * *

June 30th 

There is something different about Jared. It's a good different, but still different. He used to be so quiet. Before. He's been louder, rougher, more there. Mom says he's gotten brash, whatever that means. I worry he will get crushed as a freshie. He's been talking about joining the football team. Scrawny little toothpick thinks he can tackle. But he's my toothpick. I told him to let me know if anyone gives him shit and I would take care of the rest. 

He gave me this leather band to wear on my wrist since my soul mate mark is in an embarrassing spot. I kinda like the way it feels. 

* * *

July 7th 

I have been meeting with my professor once a week. He seems to like me. He is a pretty cool guy. Pushing 63 and he knows what a Higgs boson is. I used to just schedule a spot in his office hours but now we get lunch at the student center. I was so regular he asked if he could eat his lunch while we went over my latest questions. It works. He just seems to sad sometimes. Today I finally got the nerve to ask him why. He told me he never got to meet his soul mate. He is afraid he passed them by one day when he wasn't paying attention. He wonders if all this time he had been looking for the perfect woman and maybe it had been a perfect man all along. It made me think how lucky I am that I found Jared so early. 

I want to burn the book when this class is over.

* * *

July 19th 

I almost forgot about my birthday! Jared had a surprise party all planned out. Nearly gave me a coronary in my parents' living room. Sometimes I wonder how I could have doubted anything about us. He may not be able to feel our soul mate bond, but he may not need to. 

* * *

July 21st 

I think I might know how to help Mr. Janus. It's going to take some research to get it up and running. I'm going to call it Eros. 

I got to watch Jared in a pickup game of tackle football. I don't think I need to worry. Kid's tough. Busted lip and his knees were all tore to hell. Didn't even phase him. I think he's going to end up taller than me. 

* * *

September 6th 

First day of spring semester was last week. I've got five classes and a job at the natural sciences library. I'm taking another one of Mr. Janus' courses since I did so well on the last one. 4.0 baby. I'm awesome. 

Jared told me he loved me. He used the actual words. I love you. I acted like an idiot. I had thought I got over stuttering years ago. I was wrong. I couldn't even get out the words. He got the idea from the idiotic grin on my face. At least, I think so. 

* * *

October 15th 

I spent the evening with Jared giving him some pointers on precalc. I wasn't so good at getting him to keep his hands to himself, but I'm pretty sure some of the math ended up in his head at the end of it. He suggested doing the next study session Billy Madison style.


	11. 11: Quickening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quickening: the first moment in pregnancy that fetal movements inside the uterus can be perceived by the mother
> 
> WARNING: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, finals are over! I have two weeks of freedom! Guess what that means? ;) More writing. :D

_No one knows for sure exactly how it happens or who may be chosen, but the existence of soul mates has been documented all over the world and throughout recorded history. The Celts had anam cara which translates literally to soul friend. The Jewish know it as bashert, or destiny. The Chinese have historically used the zodiac calendar to locate a soul mate._

_Modern scholars have coined the terms divine complement, karmic connection, twinned flames, or twinned souls. With the dawning of the new scientific era all previous knowledge of this phenomena was thrown into doubt. It is unknown exactly how many pairs never managed to find each other due to ignorance and fear in the last two centuries. It was only just recently that we have been able to accept this incredible phenomena as fact once again._

_The practical implications have yet to be explored fully. For instance, it is known that a twinned soul can feel the absence of the other as early as birth. It has been described as a sense of a missing limb, a feeling of profound incompleteness, or even a persistent fog of loss when no one in their life has gone missing. In addition, upon meeting, the twinned souls will be averse to separation and in a few cases have even become violent when distance is forced. Allowing close proximity and mutual communication for the pair is the only sure fix for such a reaction. Another common myth that has held true is the fact that a twinned soul will know, without fail, when the other dies or passes close enough to the veil that death is very likely._

_A more unusual aspect of what has recently been termed the soul mate bond develops when two conditions have been met. Both souls must reach the age of sexual maturity, often described as the ability to father or bear offspring, and they must meet and achieve physical contact, no matter how brief. Emotions, deliberately or accidentally, can be transmitted through their connection in the form of a sensation of color and form. A comprehensive guide to each color and some of their various meanings can be found in Appendix XII at the back of this book. This ability can be either permanent or transient and in some it never develops at all. No current research can explain why it may disappear or why not all pairs experience this in the first place._

_If the pair manages to remain together long enough a third feature may arise. They may begin to share themselves when emotions run high. Twinned souls may stumble upon each other's dreams or even suddenly know what is happening and where. One pair claimed to regularly share orgasms and another found her other half lost in the wilderness for days with no way to call for help and no previous hiking experience in the area. Limited scientific research has been completed on this subject, but the few published studies available largely support these amazing claims. This is an extremely rare occurrence, however, and the likelihood of any one pair of twinned souls achieving such a deep connection is estimated to be less than 1 in 1500 pairs. Even more rare is the sharing of dreams with no current research indicating that a state of lucid dreaming may be achieved. Instead, these events are discovered only after dreams have been discussed and found to be identical._

_There have been rumored to be even more fantastical benefits to this soul mate bond that have not yet been scientifically explored: telepathy, telekinesis, possession, astral projection, shared pain, miraculous healing, and more. No reproducible proof of these abilities have been demonstrated and thus will not be discussed further. Suffice it to say, much more scholarly attention must be paid to these myths and the pool of research subjects must be drastically expanded and diversified for any hope of proving or disproving their existence._

_Twinned Souls, An Exploration_

 

**Jared's POV**

Jared was half-dozing in his creative writing class on a Wednesday when it happened. Seven forty-five in the freakin' morning is not the best time to expect teenagers to be ambulatory and, for him, this feeling extended well into his second period class. His teacher didn't seem to mind as long as he passed his tests and turned in his assignments on time. More than once he had been startled awake by the bell with a large drool spot on his jacket sleeve and his teacher offering him a tissue. 

This morning was different. He had been fidgeting all period and his notebook was now littered with strings of random words and doodling that made no sense. He squinted at the ink on the page, thinking he might be able to arrange at least some of the words into a half-assed poem he could turn in for this week's assignment. The color green had been distracting him all morning. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He hadn't seen Jensen since Saturday and the color green was filling his thoughts. He was looking at roughly a half dozen haiku's on the subject scribbled in the margins of his notebook. When had those happened? 

A definite edge of brown was ghosting on the periphery and he had to check and make sure it hadn't actually happened in real life. No one else seemed to notice the dusky amber hue. The bell ringing, shrill and jarring, seemed to snap him out of whatever visual hallucinations he was experiencing. He sniffed, gathered his things, and went in search of third period. He'd worry about the status of his sanity after the European history exam. 

It happened again during lunch. He was happily munching through a PBJ and banana his mother had stashed for him when magenta took over the entirety of his vision. He shook his head to clear it, despite the obvious uselessness of the gesture, and the hallucination stuck. It took him the rest of the sandwich and a good portion of his bag of plantain chips to catch on. If he concentrated he could see both the world in front of him and a happy swirling magenta coloring his thoughts. He mentally poked at the sensation and received a shock of deep purple like lightning through the magenta before they both faded away. 

Jared, too excited to care, ditched his next class in favor of the library computers. 

 

 **Jensen's POV**

Jensen was celebrating his one millionth member when it happened. Eros was taking off. No, it had blasted off. He had expected a good couple months of limping along before he managed to see any real cash flow. The limping, however, had lasted all of two weeks before he was scrambling for bigger storage and faster servers. This morning he had implemented a new feature, image matching. Before the latest feature update Eros members had to perform manual keyword searches based on generic tags and written text descriptions of soul mate marks provided at registration. Now the software could map the soul mate mark from a good quality photo and provide a list of possible matches in the database according to the specified number of geometric correlations. It was all based on a bit of facial recognition software he had spent the last month adapting to his needs. 

Amanda was slapping him on the back and yelling so loud his ears were ringing. One million members. Guess that meant it was time to get some employees. "Jenny, you big doof. OMG! My pretty pretty little bro, you did it," she was yelling. 

Jensen was wincing more from the repeated 'pretties' than the volume of her very feminine, very high pitched excitement. The big stupid grin on his face, though, was all his fault. He was so happy his smile muscles were starting to ache. Inviting his annoying twin into the project had been a stroke of genius. The only way he could think to describe her was as a GIRL girl. Her exaggerated feminine touch had bled into the website and all over the graphics she had made for him. They had been a huge improvement over his initial attempts and a smash hit. "You do know you are not only five inches shorter than me but also younger by twenty minutes, 'Manda," he grumped with that smile still plastered to his mouth. Dammit. 

She gave him a wet pop of lip-sticked lips on his stubbly cheek and slung her arms loosely around his neck as he sat in front of the computer watching the stats scroll by. "You were my little brother until you shot up like a damned bamboo stalk in high school. Can't escape it now," she sang. Her entire body was practically vibrating with her excitement. Sixteen months of dreams and hard work were finally paying off. 

Jensen was hoping the new update would improve their match rate. Currently, members could expect anywhere between a week and four months to find their soul mate with a long list of false positives in between. The entire process was heavily dependent on each person's dedication to the search and choice of tags for their mark. Now, the program on the brand new server he had just shelled out for would automatically perform a search each time a new picture was added and the results would be delivered to the relevant members. Or, at least that is how it should happen. It wasn't called a beta test for nothing. "So, little sis, what should we call this new," he gestured to the screen, "thing? I got to name the website and leaving it as IMS2.4.0.0 doesn't sound right." 

"Well, Hermes, the website is called Eros and I got to call myself Hera," she giggled at that, "We need to stick to the Greek theme." She tapped her lower lip with his index finger. "Thyrsus." 

He sputtered on his coke, "You mean the staff thingy carried by that god of orgies? Oh, hell no." He was about to make some snarky comment but was cut off by a sensation of sheer wonder. He had done a lot of research over the last two years and some of it had been on the exact nature of a fully functional soul mate bond at every stage of life. A vibrant orange excitement nearly stole his breath away as it filled his mind. He could even see a hint of hopeful yellow along the edges. He chuckled, startling his sister, and pushed a sense of mischief along the bond, hoping it would somehow translate to goosing Jared and then running for the hills expecting him to follow. He saw the hint of jagged purple his intention translated in to. 

"Jen, you ok," Amanda was asking him.

He blinked, "Yeah. What do you need?" 

She leaned down and got nose to nose with him. "You've been staring at the screen for like ten minutes, Jen," she explained. 

"Oh," he replied. "Just thinking what the site needs next."

She squinted, "What happened?" Figures. He never could lie for shit to her. 

He licked his lips. Jared sent a burst of 'we need to talk' earthy beige before falling silent. "I can feel Jared," he finally said. 

She squealed and if his ears weren't already bleeding that might have done it. She landed in his lap with a bounce and nearly crushed his rib cage as well as his testicles. No one ever said Amanda Ackles was delicate. There were times he wasn't certain even he could take her in a fight. She never ceased to make him proud. Shoving the phone in his face and demanding to be present in the conversation, however, was a bit much to ask. He came up with a distraction instead. 

It took some time to find the privacy he needed once he extricated himself from his sister's curiosity. In fact, Jensen found himself walking down the hallway in socked feet rather than reclaiming his apartment. Amanda was happily tapping away on his keyboard while he grabbed his phone and escaped to a quiet spot in the stairwell. His finger hovered over Jared's entry in his contact list. He took a deep breath and tapped the little green phone next to it. He really hoped he wasn't wrong. 

Jared picked up on the first ring, "You felt that, right? I'm not imagining it, right? Please tell me I'm not going crazy." Jensen could tell he was barely allowing himself to breath in between words he was talking so fast. 

"Jay, hold on. Slow down," he soothed. "I felt it. I feel you." 

There was a big sigh on the other end of the phone accompanied by a haze of canary yellow relief/elation/ hope. "Oh my god. Oh my god. I have been trying everything. I was so worried there was something wrong with me," Jared was still talking way too fast. 

They spent a good half hour on the phone before he heard the bell ringing over the line. "Jay, did you skip class," Jensen asked. He chuckled when a splash of honey green embarrassment/guilt gave Jared away. 

"I might have," he hedged. "I should probably go." 

Jensen, worried he'd said the wrong thing, hurried to say, "But, you'll call tonight?" 

"Yeah, Jen, I'll call tonight."


	12. 12: Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a moment in every story where the plot meets a fork in the road. One path is wide and bright and shiny, leading to a gentle romcom with token misunderstandings and white picket fences. Yeah, no. I'm not good at those. Do you see that narrow wooded path over there, barely two ruts in the ground? Yep, we are going that way. Strap in. I'm not entirely sure how bad it is going to get. 
> 
> WARNING: infidelity, minor language, brief mention underage sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the fluff is mostly over. Let the angst begin.

  **Jensen's POV**

Six months ago Jensen hired an ad agency for his first professional advertising campaign. They had been disappointed with his refusal to reveal his identity. One woman on the team even claimed they wouldn't need to hire the male model if he'd only cooperate. Not even flattery had changed his mind, Hermes was a faceless question and it was exactly how wanted it. What prompted the move was an excited message from Mr. Janus, the professor from his previous school. His soul mate turned out to be a delightful bubbly woman living in Puerto Rico he had found through Eros. A couple months later their wedding photos arrived in the mail. He still had the letter she had hand written to him and wrapped around the happy images and a DVD. They had credited his pet project on the video. Between that and Eros hitting the five million members mark he needed to start acting official. He hired a couple full-time developers, an accountant, a secretary, and even put his sister on the payroll for graphic design in addition to partial ownership. She called it 'adulting'. 

The cash rolling in had started reaching stupid proportions not long after and Jensen was able to transfer to a better program at a private university. The decision had added on nearly a year to his college career, but he couldn't have been happier. It was more challenging, certainly more advanced, and he even had a couple job offers straight of the line. He still wasn't sure what he was going to say to that. Eros was a full-time gig. 

He wouldn't have done it, wouldn't have moved so far from his home but Jared was no longer there. He hadn't been able to stall Mrs. Padalecki long enough and now his own soul mate was spending his junior year of high school at a boarding school nearly a full day's drive from home. The same boarding school that was so strict about visitors. His name had actually been put on some sort of blacklist the woman had concocted in order to preserve Jared's ability to concentrate. They hadn't spent time together, face to face since the start of the school year. 

They still talked, their bond alive with color as they traded stories over the phone or email. There was a distance, though, that bothered him. They were living in different worlds. Jared was the son of Padalecki, Weinbech, Loren & Associates surrounded by modern day blue blood aristocrats. Jensen was only the son of a pair of public school teachers attending a university with a more than full-time job. Jared had gone to the South of France on his friend's private jet over spring break, sending him goofy photos with equally goofy captions. Jensen had worked his ass off so he could finish his undergrad dissertation on time without neglecting his company. He'd barely seen daylight in weeks. The differences growing between them were frightening. 

He was grateful, then, that he hadn't found the nerve to tell him about Eros. Jared had let something slip in their last conversation. He had actually spoken favorably on the benefits of a political marriage for his future career prospects. He even had a few mothers interested. The Padalecki name was viable thanks mostly to his oldest sibling, a sister whose name Jensen forgot, filling his father's vacant spot in the firm. It had hurt, knowing he might only ever be the shameful secret, the gay soul mate, the skeleton in the closet. 

It hurt so much more when Jared had chosen to go with his friends for Spring Break (not the problem) and then left their bond wide open while he fucked some blonde bimbo on the deck of her cousin's yacht (major asshole move). Thank god they were currently limited to color and Jensen hadn't been forced to live through the actual act itself. Jared's frantic apologies and excuses had rang hollow the next day. Not with the sound of feminine laughter and gentle ocean swells in the background. 

Jensen was beginning to doubt that this whole soul mate crap was everything it was purported to be, or that he even had a chance to live his happily ever after with the one he loved.

 **Jared's POV**

Jared had felt all the blood drain from his face, felt himself go cold with shock when his mother had cheerfully announced his enrollment in the boarding school she had been so keen on. He had pleaded and threatened, but nothing he said or did changed her mind. He was powerless. Somehow Jensen had known something was up because within minutes there was a gentle caress of turquoise speckled with orange tasting of concern/curiosity and his phone started ringing. Not even Jensen, though, had been able to do more than comfort him as he packed the one bag he would be allowed to take with him. He had put everything he hoped to have in their future together into his farewell kiss and promised himself that he would find a way to get out of this forced isolation. 

The towering colonial style mansion and its surrounding structures were situated on a one hundred acre plot of land lined by a ten foot wall all the way around. He knew all of this because he was reading the brochure, had been off and on since his mother had stuffed them both into the car the previous day. Now, though, he was looking out the window and trying his best to ignore his mother's cheerful voice expressing her delight, how fortunate he was to have been accepted. He barely noticed the carved wooden box holding his father's watch that she pressed into his hand, wishing him luck while telling him that she would miss him. He guessed he would miss her too, once he got over being mad about getting shipped off. 

Life at boarding school turned out to be not as bad as he had expected. Sure, he felt seriously out of place for the first couple months. His father's legacy, his family's name, was what had secured his spot, not the size of their bank account. He was a pauper, destitute compared to most. Their palatial home was little more than a cabin compared to the mansions his new friends were showing him. They didn't judge, though, and eventually he fit in. Soon he was walking and talking like he had always belonged, developing the edge he would need to survive. 

It took longer than that to figure out that once again he was feeling off. He was finding it increasingly easier to ignore the swirling colors coming from Jensen through the bond. Initially he was grateful for the reprieve. As time wore on he began to worry. The vibrant colors had been reduced to brief muted flashes of washed out color. In addition, he was slowly losing the ability to interpret what he was seeing. Yellow was just yellow and though he could remember that some yellows had felt joyful and full of life he could only guess that it was still an accurate translation. 

It was during Spring Break that he figured this all out. He blamed the demanding curriculum for not seeing it sooner. A cousin of the girlfriend of one of his minor acquaintances owned a yacht on the Cote d'Azur. A couple phone calls got them a week on the boat and a plane to get them there. Jared was invited. 

Seven teenagers on a boat with little supervision was a recipe for disaster. Thankfully it wasn't a recipe for cocaine. By seemingly unanimous decision no one even mentioned drugs other than the alcohol already stocked onboard. The champagne went to his head. They were dancing to Whitney Houston slow dancing to Whitney Houston beneath the disco ball, swaying with the crush from his sociology class named Kara. 

The entire time they swayed pressed together his teenaged hormones were screaming at him. He hadn't had sex in a while. He was trying so hard to be faithful, but her soft body was brushing against his. She was driving him to distraction and certain parts of his anatomy didn't seem to care that she wasn't Jensen. 

They had stumbled down to the master bedroom and her dress was halfway off before the door was open. The drunken sex had been hot and nearly frenzied, and not nearly as drunken as he would have liked. Buzzed, pleasantly relaxed was a more accurate description. He had no excuses. His downstairs brain had been calling the shots and the sour taste of regret had filled him the next morning. 

He had woken up with a slight hangover and the angry/sorrow/devastated pulse of ebony and burnt crimson coming from the bond, from Jensen, like blood in the void. It was the first time in months that he had been able to understand the emotions behind the colors he was seeing. He finally saw how they were muted, nothing like the bright vibrance and urgent there-ness they should have been. It was a shock. He panicked. Jensen was silent for eight horrible days after that. None of his phone calls, text messages, or emails garnered a reply. The vacation was ruined. 

By the time Jensen started talking to him again Jared had been too caught up in the life around him. He needed to concentrate if he wanted to get into Princeton or Yale. He needed to make connections now if he wanted to succeed later on. He stopped trying so hard and they let their talks become fewer and by the time he was reading his college acceptance letters they were writing emails to each other twice a week. 

Jensen would be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loosely basing this chapter on a specific experience in my life, one that cost me my best friend. We were living in such starkly separate worlds, both physically and socioeconomically, that there was no longer a common interest to keep us together during the few visits she had home from school. I in no way intend my portrayal to encompass all or even most boarding schools or their students.


	13. 13: A Lot Naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen's 21st Birthday
> 
> WARNING: post-coital non-explicit references to sex, the boys are a little naked, OK a lot naked

**Jared/Jensen POV**

Dirty blonde hair was tickling his chin, the wax in the spikes keeping them roughly in place despite the sweat that soaked them. He wrapped his arm more firmly around the man on top of him and smoothed his other hand along the slope of his back. His fingers mapped out the bumps in his spine, the muscles that ran alongside. A stumbled cheek rubbed sleepily on his pectoral and Jared stifled a laugh. That had tickled. 

Jensen snuffled once before his eyes opened. His pillow had moved. He got an eye full of bronzed skin and groaned in embarrassment. He had fallen asleep. No, he had passed out on top of Jared and somehow they were both clean. There was a decided lack of the icky squeak of lube. Jared was feeling a hazy red/pink of love/happy/horny. 

Jared spied a sliver of jade from behind thick eyelashes and chuckled. "Happy birthday," he announced while one hand roved possessively over a bare buttock. 

Jensen smacked his hand away playfully, "Mmmm, it definitely is." He stretched his leg, running his big toe along the outside of Jared's calf from ankle to knee. "Tell me again why I didn't go out and get plastered like every other self-respecting twenty-one year old?" 

Jared coaxed Jensen into a kiss, more languid than heated. "Go ahead, lie and tell me getting drunk would have more fun than what we just did," he joked. 

"Wouldn't be a good lie if I did," he replied. He curled his hand around Jared's ribs and laid his ear against the thump of Jared's heart. "Tell me you don't have to go to college and I don't have to take that job then." 

Jared scrunched his nose. He didn't like it any more than Jensen did. They were just getting back into sync, mending the damage to their relationship. "Aren't you supposed to be the adult in this relationship, old man," he asked instead. 

Jensen rolled onto his back, one hand still thrown carelessly over Jared's torso. "Jared, I think we need to rethink this," he said in a monotone voice. His eyes were firmly fixed on the ceiling and his mouth was turned down in a frown. The moment he said it he wanted to take it back. He knew, though, that if he wanted to get through the next few years without hating himself or Jared he would have to get this out. 

Jared stiffened. He hadn't been expecting those words. They sounded ominous. "You think one of us should change our plans," he asked hopefully. He could find another school closer to where Jensen was going to be. It wouldn't be even close to the same, but he could try. 

"No. I need this apprenticeship and you got into your dream school. I'm talking about this," he said while gesturing between them. 

"You need to be more clear, Jensen," he pressed. He didn't want to misunderstand what was coming next. He pushed a sense of ivory white quiet, waiting. 

He sighed. "Long distance relationships just don't work. I mean, remember your first year at boarding school," he started. "It was a disaster. That nearly broke me, Jay. I can't do that again." 

"What are you saying," he asked through gritted teeth. He thought they had dealt with that spring break and put it behind them. 

"I need to not expect so much out of you while we are apart, Jay. I think we need to put our relationship on hold," he finally admitted. Just the thought dug a hole out of the center of his chest. A burst of gunmetal blue told Jared everything he needed to know about Jensen's state of mind, sadness/despair, before it was stopped. 

Jared nearly exploded out of the bed. "Don't call me that. Not that. Not while you are breaking up with me," he spat. He could feel tears building in his eyes. "So, you want to see other people? Get a taste of what you are missing? Am I not enough," he wondered. 

"No," Jensen softly insisted. He put a hand on Jared's shoulder. Jared shrugged him off and moved away. "Just the thought... No." His thoughts were colored with the vomit green of jealous/denial/sick. Jensen had always been better with their bond. 

He turned to face Jensen. "Then why? Explain it to me." 

"College, Jay. College and frat parties and football games. I'm going to be hundreds of miles away and I can't compete. Not from a distance. I can't lose and I can't win." His face had this look of desperation. 

Jared grabbed Jensen finally and wrapped around him, "I'm not some prize to be won, Jen. I can choose. I can choose you." 

Jensen buried his face at the junction of neck and shoulder and mumbled against the Jared scented skin, "Yeah, but will you?" 

They both stood in the turquoise glow of reconciliation knowing they would screw it up somehow.


	14. 14: Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some emails written by the boys in between phone calls.
> 
> WARNING: none

August 25th  
To: Jensen  
From: Jared

You should see the dorms here! They are so old and I swear from the outside it looks like the windows are just going to fall out by themselves. My room looks alright from the inside, though. My new roomie, Alen, is nothing like Mark used to be. He's a sophomore studying art history and the mess in just two days is incredible. I swear if he gets one speck of that acrylic paint on my stuff I'm going to request a transfer. I might be able to get some sleep at night, though. He's already threatened me with silly string if I'm noisy after ten.

I'm thinking about rushing.

I miss you. I don't understand why you couldn't figure out a way to work here with me. It seems that we are always finding reasons not to be together. I've got your picture on my desk. It helps. Alen says you are a hottie, something about perfect symmetry and ideal proportions. I just know you are my Jensen.

Thinking of you,  
Jared

* * *

September 14th  
To: Jared  
From: Jensen

You asked about the project I am working on with Amanda the other day. I don't know how to ease you into it so I am just going to come out with it. My first year of college I had an idea. From that idea came Eros and it just snowballed from there. I didn't know how to tell you.

* * *

September 19th  
To: Jensen  
From: Jared

Oh man, you are Hermes, right?! My mom is going to freak. Maybe she'll get off our case now. I'm going to call you tonight. You better pick up.

* * *

November 1st  
To: Jared  
From: Jensen

I just moved into my own apartment today. My first place all to myself. It's too quiet. I got the smaller one. The one next to the park I showed you. You would like it here. There's this bay window in the second floor that would be a perfect writing space. You are still planning on writing your novel? I keep looking at that window and I can't help but see you perched on a chair typing away.

First semester is almost over. I'm so proud of you.

* * *

November 21st  
To: Jensen  
From: Jared

Don't call me for a while. I've got to study.

* * *

January 2nd  
To: Jensen  
From: Jared

Christmas wasn't what I wanted. I can't believe my mother. Why won't you let me tell her about Eros?

I'm sorry about Darla. She was just supposed to be there to shut my mother up. I thought if I had a 'suitable' girlfriend things would get better. I didn't think she would pretend with you too.

Pick up when I call.

* * *

January 10th  
To: Jared  
From: Jensen

I'm sorry, Jay. I'm so sorry.

* * *

February 23rd  
To: Jared  
From: Jensen

Check your mail, Jay.  
Happy early birthday.

* * *

March 20th  
To: Jared  
From: Jensen

I got promoted from coffee boy to something a little more hands on. I pointed out something obviously wrong with the last project. Getting pulled into the boss' office was not a fun experience, but I am now the most junior member of the team. We start a new project tomorrow. I can't wait.

The renovations are completed on my apartment, My landlord says I can move back in anytime. I'll take pictures for you.

You are going to have to talk to me eventually.

* * *

May 4th  
To: Jensen  
From: Jared

I think you were right in the beginning, Jensen. I think I need to concentrate on my life here. You should do the same.


	15. 15: Intermission 2, Breaking News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *squints* There might be some plot in there.

The studio was your standard splash of official blue and gray, the desk looked far more expensive than it was, and the news anchor's face was caked with make-up to hide any semblance of mortality left in her features. Her voice was perfectly pitched with authority as she spoke, "Breaking news tonight. You all know Eros, the popular social networking site for soul mates. It took the web by storm five years ago, breaking onto the scene with a revolutionary new idea. Its members live in over fifty different countries and speak nearly twelve separate languages. Not bad for a little website conceived by a college freshman not yet out of his parents' house. Hermes, the reclusive founder and co-owner of Eros, has announced the sale of a majority of his shares in the company today to Grissom International, a multinational conglomerate based in Italy. We have him tonight in the studio to explain such a drastic and sudden move."

The camera cuts to a masculine figure in a suit shrouded in shadow. He looks relaxed on a tall stool, one foot resting on the bottom rung.

"Hermes has requested that we identify him only by his handle on the website and has also requested his face and voice be disguised."

The camera shows the anchorwoman smiling brightly.

"Mr. Hermes, many companies have attempted to acquired Eros over the last two years. What prompted you to finally accept?"

Hermes shrugged in the shadows, "It was time." His voice was deep and obviously electronic.

"There are rumors that you have yet to find your own soul mate. Is that why you are relinquishing the reins," she pressed. A running twitter feed scrolled continuously along the bottom of the screen bearing the tag #erossold. Many were dramatic exclamations of tragedy and some promptly supported the assertion of a missing soul mate as the culprit.

"I began the website because a good friend of mine had spent the better part of six decades looking for his soul mate with no results. I decided to think of a more efficient way than hoping to bump into him or her on the subway." He chuckled, "I believe I succeeded."

"So, no soul mate in your future then," she playfully asked.

"I honestly don't know where I will go from here," he replied, evading the question like a professional.

She shuffled her papers out of habit. "What made you pick Grissom International?"

"Their proposal made the most sense. Grissom is ideally placed to grow Eros into the sort of massive international service it has the potential to be. I was just scratching the surface."

"There have been concerns about the direction Grissom might take the site without its visionary at the helm."

"My business partner, Hera, will be taking over in my stead. That was part of my agreement in the sale. She knows and understands the mission we had laid out together when we first began, and I am confident she is more than capable of ensuring the satisfaction of our customers in that regard," he replied.

"Thank you, Mr. Hermes, for coming in tonight," she said, signalling the end of the interview.

"Thank you for having me," he replied.

"Well, there you have it. The Grissom International acquisition of Eros has been confirmed. We will have more for you on that as events unfold."

The camera shifted and her co-host began talking about a gas leak in Michigan, Eros and himself no longer of concern.

Hermes gratefully left the building.


	16. 16: Yule Be Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen was bound to screw up at some point.
> 
> WARNING: none

_  
There are ways to alter a soul mate bond. Many methods suggested by lore and myth are nothing more than placebo. They work mainly through belief. Research has found some external methods to act upon the bond itself. The full effect of these symbols when used properly is unknown. Some are known to dampen or mute a bond, even going so far as to render it silent or permanently injure it. There is one that has been used historically to repair a bond, strengthening it artificially until it has healed from damage. Another is thought to amplify the effect of a bond with no apparent influence on bond strength and has been used to reach a comatose soul mate when all other avenues have been exhausted._

_Limited therapeutic usage of these symbols made into charms or inscribed onto personal items began in the 1980s with varying results. Intent appears to be a very large part of their efficacy. The data available on these items originates mainly from a single large study done on unsuspecting twinned souls attending UC Berkeley, Texas A &M, Yale, Stanford, University of Chicago, and University of Florida from 1982 to 1989. Due to the lack of subsequent studies it is recommended that use of these items be avoided until such a time as more research can be conducted. A complete list is available in Appendix II at the back of this book._

_Twinned Souls, An Exploration  
_

**Jensen's POV**

Jensen could have afforded just about anything he wanted. He had kept just enough of his shares that he could throw a little weight behind Amanda if she needed it, but most had been bought out in the sale, liquidated. Eros had gone public not long after and his personal net worth had skyrocketed on the market. He could have purchased a little island somewhere remote and disappeared. It was a tempting idea.

That disastrous Christmas Jensen had screwed up big time. Whatshername had staked an obvious claim on Jared and Jensen hadn't stuck around to find out any different. They had, once again, been getting distant. Their talks had become almost automated and Jared hadn't even seemed interested most of the time. He had believed her lies because they were plausible. It seemed those two were always together. Jared was in the shower, taking a nap, getting food, and could he please hold on one moment because she had to check if Jared was up yet. More often than not when he did get hold of him, Jared was at her apartment or with her at the cafe or even talking low because he didn't want to wake her. Then there she was answering the door to Jared's childhood home wearing the ugliest reindeer sweater he had ever seen and getting along famously with his mom.

Jensen didn't wait for excuses. He just left. That night he got roaring drunk and made the dubious decision to leap into bed with the bartender and his twin brother. At the time he had thought it fitting revenge. The next morning he had been hugging the porcelain throne and cursing the alcohol he had poured down his gullet. It had been a Guinness oatmeal kind of morning. It hadn't been his finest hour. There were many things he regretted in his life. That stupid decision was one of them, at the top of the list.

He threw himself into his work after that. They didn't talk much, or at all, per Jared's request. The firm became his home. He earned his own desk. In less than a year he had his own office and they were putting him through a masters program in structural engineering. He was headed for the big projects. He no longer had time to constantly worry about the failing, no...failed, relationship with his soul mate or why neither of them were pushing harder to make it work.

He had no idea when they had gotten so lost or how to get back.

**Jared's POV**

Jared got a girlfriend.

Well, it wasn't as sudden as it sounds. First, Jared got a study partner. Darla was in two of his classes. Sure, he noticed she was pretty in a 'grows on you' sort of way. She had a beauty that was less flashy and more a classic girl next door. In essence, she snuck up on him. One moment he was marveling at how easily she explained the difference between p score and t score. The next he was admiring how well her shirt fit, the silken fall of her hair, the subtle quirk of one side of her mouth as she chewed on a pen deep in thought.

It started out simple enough. They had coffee everyday. Coffee turned into lunch which turned into dinner. Then it was takeout food on the floor, half-dressed with notes spread around them like some modern art project. She was so easy to talk to. More often than not she crashed on his couch, or he on hers rather than walk home at two in the morning.

When he needed someone to pretend to be his girlfriend so he could enjoy Christmas at home in peace, Darla was the easy choice. She was also the one that pulled him out of the depression that had swamped him after. She had dragged him to class and helped him keep his grades up. It had taken months of patient badgering for him to recover. The split with Jensen appeared final when Eros was sold. It seemed they were both taking a bit of time off from even the idea of soul mates.

He started writing again.

A pair of feminine hands slid over his shoulders and down his chest. "Are you going to sit here all day," Darla asked. Her skin smelled like her body wash, a mix of coconut and passion flower. She was staying over for reasons other than studying now.

Jared reached back and found she was wearing only his shirt, discarded from yesterday. "When do you plan on getting dressed," he countered. He turned his face and caught her lips in a kiss.

She turned his chair and straddled his lap, laying her arms over his shoulders. "I'll make it worth your while," she promised.

He smacked her lightly on the butt and the pushed her gently away. "I've got to get to class in thirty minutes," he explained. Finals were coming around the corner.

She pouted. "You could miss a couple lectures. Your GPA wouldn't suffer." When he simply shelved the journal he had been writing in she gave up. "Fine. I'll see you tonight," she called in a sing-song tone as she waltzed away, shedding the shirt as she went.

It took a bit of self-control not to follow that naked nymph back to bed. He gathered his books and resolutely left for class. He'd make it up to her.

In the back of his mind the soul mate bond flickered with shades of black staunchness/strength and the crisp cool white of distance/detachment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank Tropical Storm Erika for this chapter. She decided to come for a visit and left the island a natural disaster. Flooding and landslides knocked out all telecommunications, the internet, the water, the power on most of the island, houses, bridges, roads, and anything else in their way. News trickled in by word of mouth as people hiked, on foot, to neighboring villages. Suffice it to say. I have fallen even more in love with my kindle and my iPad. Both have kept me sane.


	17. 17: White Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: none

**Jared's POV**

Jared got a boyfriend.

Darla had been a mistake. She had wanted too much too soon. He was still rather fond of her, but it was best that she find someone else. Someone that was more open to the speed at which her biological clock was ticking. He debated calling Jensen once he knew it was over with her. Had been flipping through his contacts as she packed the last of her things and left. She had been pissed and all he could think about was a pair of jade green eyes framed in freckles.

His friends had fixed him up with a few more dates since then. He finally settled on Carter, Jeremy Theodore Carter, III. He fulfilled several criteria. He had a good heart, wasn't demanding, had no designs on marriage and kids just yet, was majoring in pre-med with decent grades, and Mrs. Padalecki would swoon over his pedigree. Carter was first cousin to Lorraine Fulton, of The Fultons. They were siłver screen royalty going back four generations. They were everywhere in the film business, both in front of and behind the cameras. Carter's own father was a producer with a particular nose for a winning script.

They got along well. The sex was fantastic. He had no idea what was going to happen when Carter graduated in a few months, but he was sure they would both enjoy things while it lasted.

Carter's warm and deeply tanned skin slid against his side as he stirred. He had finally succumbed to the man's insistence that he needed a proper summer vacation. With the tropical sun on his skin and the fine white sand beach beneath him he couldn't argue. He had needed this.

Carter's delicate fingers massaged the skin of his wrist. "You know, I don't think I've seen this particular patch of skin before," he remarked.

"Very funny," Jared said dryly. Though the slight smile in his face softened his tone.

Carter kissed the pulse point and set his hand back on the chair they were lounging on. "I had wondered what it would take to get you to relax and take off that stuffy watch. Apparently I had to fly you to Caracas," he mused. "Never thought I'd see the day." He lay back and closed his eyes.

"I take it off," he grumbled lightly. "It was my father's watch." A waiter carrying a tray of drinks from their hotel passed by. He flagged the man down and ordered a refill on his pina colada.

"I also never expected you, of all people, to go for the girly drinks. Little umbrella and all."

He shrugged, "What can I say. I like pineapples."

Carter opened his eyes and looked over. "You are an even bigger mystery than I expected, Jared Padalecki. So, now that I have you talking, when are you going to tell me the story of that big piece of artwork on your shoulder, or that dishy man whose picture you keep on your desk? If I give you enough pina coladas will you spill?"

Jared closed his eyes. "Drop the subject," he said in a very exasperated voice.

Carter smirked and put his sunglasses on, "One of these days, Jared."

**Jensen's POV**

Jensen was having dinner. He didn't have many friends at work but Camilla hadn't given up. She had sniffed him out in the first month and by the time he was riding his own desk she had badgered him into afternoon coffee. By the time he was hanging his masters degree on the wall she was a regular fixture in his life. Tonight was girl's night out. For some reason he couldn't fathom 'the girls' consisted of Camilla, her three girl friends, and him.

Camilla clipped a pink ribbon to his shirt and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "There, that's better."

He grimaced and wiped off the imaginary smudge her lips left. "What is that," he looked down and asked.

Lindsay pointed to her own and exclaimed, "Breast cancer awareness month."

"Oh," he replied dumbly and left it alone.

They had finished off a pitcher of sangria before the nachos arrived. The usual questions about boyfriends and annoying colleagues filtered over the din of the restaurant. Jensen had his usual responses. They were a lot like Lindsay's and Maya's. Erika was the only one of the five that had managed to maintain a relationship longer than date number four lately. Her husband had hated Jensen on the spot until a few things had been explained to him. Now it was a tense sort of truce. As long as he stuck to being gay the man had no reason to rearrange his face.

Someone said his name.

He looked up from his phone, the email to Jared only half written. "Mmm," he hummed in query.

A small hand smacked his upper arm. "Are you even listening," Camilla asked.

"Umm, no," he replied a bit sheepishly. "I sorta tuned out when the great leather versus pleather purse debate commenced." The womens' last argument about accessories had spanned nearly an hour and he hadn't understood much, not even after they attempted to enlighten him. He may be gay, but like most men he was clueless. If it fit and he liked the color he wore it.

Maya leaned over his drink and whistled. He had hastily closed out the email draft he'd been working on and the next open window was a full screen picture of Jared in swim shorts. "Who is that," she prodded.

It was a nice picture. Jared's skin was honey tan and his hair had picked up some blonde streaks. Throw in the tropical beach in the background and he looked like a tall, muscled surfer dude with dimples. "Old high school flame," he fumbled and turned off the screen. If only that was all he had been. Jensen life would have been so much easier.

They recognized the shut down for what it was, putting together his unusually terse reply and the look of pain that had blossomed on his face for the few seconds he had been looking at the image. Everyone at the table had experienced a bad breakup, or seven. He could tell Camilla really wanted a glimpse, but she held her tongue.

"Will you do me a favor Jen," Erika asked suddenly.

"Hit me," he said.

She punched him on the shoulder.

"Ow," he feigned, rubbing the spot she had connected with. "I didn't mean literally. Friend abuse is not funny." Yep, he was feeling the wine. "What did you need?"

Silence.

Lindsay decided to cut in, "Her brother is visiting."

Silence.

"He's gay," Camilla added.

Bingo. "Oh no. You girls are not setting me up on a date," he protested. They set another glass of sangria in front of him. Drink. Be merry. Don't mind the conniving women around you. Right.

"Owen needs a friendly face," Erika explained.

"This city isn't exactly teeming with gay men, Jensen," Maya added.

All four gave him pleading looks and he caved. "It won't be a date," he insisted.

"Thank you," Erika squealed and tried to squeeze the breath from his lungs.

Owen was an attractive man of five foot nine with kinky black hair in braids that brushed his shoulders and skin a honeyed chocolate color that brought out the amber hue in his eyes. He was quite a bit lighter than his sister and several years older. Jensen had even gone with Erika and crew to the airport to pick him up. He figured a little testosterone might be needed to balance out all the estrogen Owen was going to get bombarded with.

It hadn't been a date. Owen had just split with his partner of eleven years and wasn't even interested in his sister's machinations. They did spend the day wandering the city. Jensen showed Owen his favorite spots, such as where to get the best cup of coffee. They only fell into bed together once, fully clothed and asleep in seconds. By the time Owen was ready to return home they had swapped phone numbers and email addresses with promises to keep in touch.

Jensen ended up eating his hat and thanking Erika profusely for introducing them. The chocolates and bottle of burgundy he sent her had not gone to waste. He heard all about them at the next girl's night out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: 27 October 2015


	18. 18: The Lost Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra little something gets added to Jensen's drink. He wakes up in the hospital groggy and confused.
> 
> WARNING: nongraphic rape and aftermath, minor profanity

_  
In a study conducted on suicide statistics in over one hundred US cities, the third most common reason cited for a suicide or suicide attempt by a twinned soul was rejection or neglect/abandonment by their other half. This was just barely edged out by a pre-existing mental health condition, such as severe depression, as the second most common reason, and the recent death of the other twinned soul, as the most common cause of twinned soul suicide._

_Twinned soul rejection is a silent killer, with few warning signs. Depression, with its usual symptoms, is commonly seen. Other psychiatric disorders, however, may be possible. The appearance of late onset or atypical schizophrenia or epilepsy with no family history should be a clear indication to look for more concrete evidence of twinned soul rejection. Early identification is key in halting the progression to psychiatric disorder and suicide._

_One measure commonly used by healthcare professionals is mark remodeling. As discussed in a previous chapter, twinned souls possess birth marks resembling tattoos that are identical on both halves. This mark does not stretch, fade, or distort in any way with age or mundane damage to the epidermis. Scarring, distortion, and even partial erasure may only be seen with prolonged or severe dissonance between twinned souls. The alterations may range from the relatively minor development of an inflammatory rash obscuring a piece of the mark to destruction of the mark with thick scaly skin, as seen on an elderly man in rural France, or keloid tissue, as witnessed on a young woman in Detroit. Since a strained or toxic bond may complicate recovery, screening for mark remodeling has been established as an important step in the treatment of injured or ill twinned souls as an indication for the need of specialized care._

_Twinned Souls, An Exploration  
_

**Jensen's POV**

Jensen smiled and lifted his drink to the sound of cheering. The office St. Patrick's Day party was the highlight of the year. The boss' executive assistant was already drunk and dancing all over everyone. The man-boy seemed particularly interested in the brunnette from accounts receivables. When the rather sedate office celebrations had ended those that hadn't dropped from exhaustion had stumbled down to the nearest purveyor of alcoholic beverages, an americanized version of the British pub with too much Scottish in it to be authentic. It was a tradition, a not so well-kept secret that if you wanted a top spot in the executive tree you had to make your appearances at the after parties and play nice with the boss. The boss liked his drunken excesses. Jensen had his eye on Chief Project Manager and the sizable jump in salary that came with it. That was the only reason he found himself in the crowded bar with his coworkers.

The place was packed, bodies sliding against each other as people made their way to the bar or the toilets. The music was just this side of too loud and the soccer game on the screens was only making the frenzy worse. Half the yelling was for the game, the other half was for the drunk girl line-up that was crowding out the bartender on his own bartop. He swallowed a good portion of gin, no tonic, and didn't give a damn. He might be gay but he could appreciate a little drunken spectacle almost as much as everyone else. He almost pulled out his phone to catch the video but thought better of it. He wasn't a complete ass.

The girl's weren't in attendance. That would have made this a bit more bearable. Camilla hadn't felt like enduring the company of inebriated coworkers and the prospect of a raise or promotion hadn't swayed her. Jensen had considered crashing at her place for a beer and Boondock Saints night, but that shining office on the second floor had called to him and he hadn't been able to resist. He finished his sprite and left the empty on a random table, intending to get a new one.

Before he made his way back to the bar a fresh glass was pressed into his hand. He looked over to find Barry from IT smiling at him. He downed it two big swallows, surprised to find out the drink had been a gin and tonic. It took effort to disguise the cough the alcohol had elicited as it burned warmly down his throat.

Barry had been dropping hints since November. He wasn't bad to look at and was one of the few men in the IT department that could speak plainly without sounding condescending. It had been three months since Jensen's last hook-up and he simply didn't want to resist any longer. He played along with the fumbling attempts to pick him up until the room went a bit fuzzy. He started to feel slow, like the world had been put on double speed and he couldn't seem to keep up. He didn't remember much after that.

The next thing he noticed was an incredibly annoying beeping sound. It woke him up enough to reach out and smash the offending alarm clock. Only his arm wouldn't move and he could barely open his eyes. A single finger twitched on the scratchy blanket covering him. He tried moving again and elicited the same disappointing results. He grunted in frustration and that provoked a reaction as the weak rasp of a sound left his throat.

A voice suddenly yelled and he barely made out the words 'nurse' and 'up'. It hardly made any sense. He made an odd sound, halfway between a gag and a violent muscle spasm. Hands grabbed at him, rolled him just before vomit spewed from his mouth. He vaguely registered the sound of thick liquid hitting a plastic bucket. A cool wet clot wiped him down from forehead to sternum, removing the cold sick sweat that beaded on his skin. His world consisted only of the sick taste of bile and vomit, the persistent beeping that had woken him, and the gentle care of someone he could barely visualize. Time was passing differently now and he had no idea how long he hovered there, halfway between a drugged stupor and the sharp sting of reality. It could have been seconds or days. All he knew was the emptying of his gut and the pain throbbing through him.

When he finally opened his eyes he was blinded by the sun streaming in through the windows. He didn't manage to hold back the groan of pain and snapped them shut again. His head throbbed like a railroad spike had gotten shoved through his frontal lobe. Someone seemed to recognize the problem because the lights were promptly turned off and the shades were drawn. When he opened them again the world had a hazy quality and his vision was fuzzing in and out. He groaned and tried to sit up, his upper body flopping back into the bedding when his strength failed him at barely an inch off the mattress. The movement, though, allowed him to pinpoint exactly where he was hurting and he had a good idea what might have happened to him. The thought made him sick all over again. The weak flow of yellow and green barely made it into the small tray held beneath his chin.

He kept a brave face through the seemingly endless parade of doctors and nurses. With an iron will he kept his voice from cracking when he described what he could remember to the surprisingly sympathetic detective. He even gritted his teeth and signed on the dotted line when they asked for his permission to obtain and process a rape kit. Rape kit. He could barely even hear the word without flinching. When it was all over, the nice nurse that had been fussing over him for the last two hours tried to talk him out of going home alone. Calling one of the girls was out of the question. There was no way he was calling a coworker to pick him up from the hospital. He didn't want anyone seeing him like this, leaving him with no other acceptable choice.

He made it down to the lobby, thanks mostly to the required wheelchair ride. The cab ride was claustrophobic. His obvious discomfort made the driver nervous and the borrowed clothes were obviously wrong on his frame. The man seemed relieved to be rid of him at the end of the ride. 

Nick, the doorman to his apartment building, had taken a liking to him almost as soon as he had moved in. When Jensen didn't initially return his hearty, "Afternoon, Mr. Ackles," he got suspicious and a little worried with the change in routine. Jensen just barely escaped without a trip to the ER, again, by promising that he was going straight to bed and not to let anyone up to see him.

Walking was painful, but he straightened his back and strode as normally as possible until he collapsed only a few feet inside of his closed apartment door. The first person he called was his mother. It was a cliche, he knew, but he needed to hear her voice. They talked for a while until she passed the phone to his father. He was certain as he said his goodbyes that no one suspected anything.

Amanda showed up on his door the next day towing enough luggage for a long stay. Lindsay, a nurse practitioner who would see right through his act, was standing directly behind her. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me! This is one of two chapters that the entire fic is built around. It was also the first to be written and was inspired by [When you still smelled like Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4226559) by [hellhoundsprey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey). It is worth the read, but not for the faint of heart.


	19. 19: Phases of Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: none

**Jared's POV**

There was a line of drool making a watercolor painting out of his notebook. The ink beneath his cheek was little more than splotches in letter form at this point, some of which had been transferred to his skin. The room was a standard dorm room designed for someone several inches shorter than Jared's already six foot one frame, and he was probably going to get taller. At the moment, he was bent over, hunched in a sitting position over his desk like he had fallen asleep halfway through organizing his notes. That was most likely the case. He was nothing if not driven. It was the reason he and Carter had decided to part ways last summer. Carter had wanted to follow his family to Hollywood, via a TV show career in Boston to get him started, and Jared had earned himself a semester overseas at Cambridge University. Neither had been willing to compromise. Once again, a long distance relationship had simply not been feasible.

He made a noise, unintelligible except for the word 'no' repeated several times before his entire body launched out of the chair, landing in a tangle of limbs on the floor. The impact woke him suddenly, his heart racing with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The back of his head ached from its bounce off the wooden floor boards and the rest of him didn't feel much better. It was more than just sleeping in an uncomfortable position and then landing in a heap on the floor. He felt like he had gone ten rounds with Sugar Ray Robinson.

It took him a few moments to recover. He rubbed the stinging spot on his scalp, thankful that his hair would cover the swelling for the next couple days. The contents of the nightmare he had just experienced was slowly fading from his mind. They never stuck around long. He jotted down the salient points before the memory was gone completely and hoped he figured out what was bothering him before he dropped from sleep deprivation. So far the major details remained the same. He had never experienced recurrent nightmares before. Especially not ones so disturbing as these had been.

Jared didn't bother with his papers, merely piling them up on the desk. Instead, he stripped his clothes and fell into an actual bed or the remainder of the night. he shut his eyes and tried really hard to fall asleep. The fear, though, stuck with him. Despite the hour, he found that he could not relax. It seemed four am was the start of a new day. He was not happy.

This had been happening for days and he was about to take a trip to the campus clinic for sleeping pills. It was always the same dream, according to his dream journal. What bothered him was Jensen had called him the night after the first one, which had ambushed him in the middle of a rather productive study group session. Jared had thought nothing of it at the time. With a paper due in a week and almost nothing written, he had been cramming time for it into every available moment. There had even been one day that he had forgotten to eat entirely, until he almost dropped from low blood sugar. Dropping that bundle of paper into the professor's inbox had been an incredible relief.

With the latest collegiate crisis behind him, his next order of business was his phone. Specifically, his voicemail was most likely bursting at the seams. He hadn't turned it on in a while. The most recent messages were from friends back home, mostly former study partners from various classes he had taken in the last three odd years. He laughed at an obviously hungover apology from his first roommate, immediately followed by an outrageous drunk dial that was even less coherent. His mother's new husband had left a message with a brief update on the state of his trust fund and a reminder to study hard. If he was smart he wouldn't need to work too much to make it last a while.

One of the older messages had been a short request from Jensen to call when he could. His voice sounded strained and not at all like himself. Jared frowned. He hadn't intended to ignore Jensen. Yet, the proof of the neglect was in Jensen's hesitant tone as he asked to simply talk to his soul mate, like he didn't expect Jared to agree to it. How long had it been since they had actually talked? He couldn't remember. The last email exchange had been easily six months ago. He got worried when he heard Jensen's sister, Amanda, a day earlier tersely inform him that Jensen had experienced a tough couple days and might benefit from a little kindness from his soul mate for a change. He didn't bother listening to the rest.

His first impulse was to call Jensen, right the fuck now. Screw the coffee. He knew, though, that this coming conversation would go better with at least some of his brain cells firing at full capacity. His mouth was well acquainted with his metaphorical foot. He reluctantly set the phone down on his desk and began the morning routine.

The shower helped him focus on something other than school and the longer he stood beneath the cold spray the better he felt. The jumbo cup of coffee helped even more. Finally, he was standing by the window in nothing but a pair of flannel sleep pants, worn with age and purchased one size too big. He was working his second cup of coffee and the cobwebs in his mind had been cleared. The sun was just beginning to light the sky with its subtle orange glow.

His phone was settled in his hand and he flipped through his contacts to make the call before he could change his mind.

A woman answered, "Jensen's phone." He didn't recognize her.

In the back ground he heard Jensen say, "Who is it," in a grouchy tone he knew well.

She covered the receiver but he still heard a muffled, "Get back in bed. I'll deal with you later." There was some shuffling and more grumbling from Jensen. The phone gave a thunk as the other end was set down. He heard her say something about water over the running of a faucet in what had to be an attached bathroom, her voice echoing slightly off the tiles. Jensen grumbled some more and he could have sworn he heard a gruff thank you amid the complaining. She softly shushed Jensen as she tucked him into bed and murmured, "Sleep." There was the click of a door closing and then a feminine sigh before she finally spoke into the microphone, "You must be Jared."

"I... How did you know," he asked.

"Your name is on the screen and if this picture is accurate you are quite the looker too. Now, what do you want with Jensen, 'cause I don't want some ex I've never heard of upsetting him right now," she replied.

"Amanda called me," he said dumbly. It was the only thing he could think of. Why didn't this woman, who was trusted enough to play nursemaid to Jensen, know who he was?

She snapped her fingers, "Oh right. Jared. I remember her saying something about you. I'm Camilla." Her voice was no longer as pleasant as it had been.

"Are you his," he swallowed, "girlfriend?" The idea didn't sit well with him. In fact, just thinking it made him want to throw up. It had been a while since he had felt so strongly that he didn't quite know how to handle it. It even took him a moment to realize that he was jealous.

She giggled, the sound harsh with the edge of anger, "Oh, I'd hit that in a hot minute. Too bad he's stubbornly batting for the other team. No, I am just the nosy best friend." That made him feel a little bit better. "You and him must have been something. He's still got your photo on his bedside table. How much did Manda tell you?" She used Jensen's childhood nickname for his twin. It just rolled off her tongue like it belonged there and he was hit by a white hot stab of jealousy.

"She implied Jensen needed to hear from me," he explained. He deflated, collapsing into the chair behind him. "Is he hurt?" That was the only thing he could think of.

"Right now? He's nursing a hellacious hangover. Had to call in sick to work and everything. It isn't like him, but considering," she paused as if unsure what to say.

"Considering what," he pressed.

She got quiet before she finally said, "Listen... Jensen... He's... Well, he hasn't been in a good place for a couple weeks now. I don't want to make it worse by blabbing his business." He heard the shuffle of paper. "Why didn't you call sooner?"

"What happened?"

The silence stretched between them and Jared was suddenly positive he didn't want to deal with whatever this was so close to midterms.

"Listen, I've got studying to do. I'll call back later," he remarked before saying his goodbyes and hanging up.

He caught her snarky and tired, "Right," before the line disconnected.

**Jensen's POV**

Jensen's eyes felt like he'd poured half the Sahara on his corneas. He groaned, burrito-ed the blanket and closed his eyes again. For a while he just wanted to be left alone. To that end he had exaggerated exactly how hungover he had been earlier and Camilla hadn't called him on it. Instead, she had pulled out the Powerade and mother-henned him into submission.

Camilla 1  
Jensen 0

Speaking of which, the door opened with a light click and the soft sound of slippers on a polished wood floor disturbed the quiet of his bedroom. Lindsay possessed a commanding voice, cultivated during her time on the wards. It perfectly complimented her no-nonsense attitude and was only improved by the slight nasal accent she hadn't seen a reason to mask. She used it now to snap him out of his thoughts, "It's time to try some soup." It wasn't a question or a suggestion.

Jensen obediently sat up and gave her a weak smile. His voice was a harsh croak, "Shouldn't you be with that hot surgeon?" He accepted the bed tray without complaint and the aroma of spicy tomato chicken soup tickled his nose.

"Paramedic," she corrected. "He was a combat medic in the army." She even gave him the expected eye roll and it earned her a wink.

"Same thing," he said and took a bite. The moan was practically pornographic. "Oh my god, marry me. What is this stuff? It is so good." He was babbling in between bites.

"Wrong equipment, Jensen," she replied and pointed at her pelvis.

He shrugged. "Ever hear of a strap-on," he cheekily asked and drained the bowl.

She laughed, "I can see why Camilla calls you adorable. That won't save you from getting out of bed today, though." She left a light kiss on his forehead as she grabbed for the now empty dishes. "Take a shower. Girl's night is taking over your living room and I am not cleaning up that mess all by myself." He hadn't exactly been tidy the last two weeks.

Jensen finally admitted defeat. He threw off the blankets and stood, wincing at the cold floor on his bare feet. He started shuffling to the bathroom, not caring that he was wearing little more than a pair of loose boxers.

He hadn't even made it through the door when Lindsay poked her head back into the room. "Camilla told me some guy named Jared called earlier."

She didn't stick around long enough to see what that announcement had caused. Jensen stopped with his head against the wall and just breathed. Jared had called. It had been almost three years since he had heard his voice and the man had chosen now to call. Why now and not two weeks ago when this most recent pain had been fresh? When he had thrown away his pride and called him. Why not years ago when there might have still been something left between them?

Jensen closed his eyes and reached out. A fizzle of hesitant orange ended before it could have gotten very far and he knew with a sense of sadness, blue smoke highlighting the cracking edges of the damage to his soul bond, that Jared wasn't receiving any of it. He could still feel each raw wound, every weak spot, but the block was like an iron wall around him. It kept him locked in his own head, away from Jared.

The shower he took was just water and soap. He washed quickly, only caring to rid himself of the grime. In the bathroom mirror, unable to help himself, he took stock of the mess his soul mate mark was becoming. It had started as dry scaly skin that would flake off, like psoriasis. His doctor had shrugged and told him to try putting lotion on it twice a day. Since then he had graduated from cheap skin cream to a heavy duty hemp body butter with no visible change. It helped with the itching, though, so he slathered it on as often as he could manage it. Today a small patch of the irritated skin about midway through the mark was red and warm to the touch. He grabbed the tube of hydrocortisone he usually reserved for bug bites and carefully rubbed it in. The relief was immediate and welcome, but he knew it wouldn't last.

By the time he was done he had managed to bury his soul mate stress beneath a thin layer of denial and completed his armor by throwing on a pair of soft worn jeans and an old shirt. He could deal with it another day, or never. Jensen wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what was happening. He just didn't know what to do about it. Jared was very far away and apparently unwilling to be bothered with him. He just didn't know how much of it could be seen as his fault.

The entire process didn't take much time. His hair was still dripping when he made his way down the hall. He nearly turned around and went back to bed when Lindsay straightened from her crouched position, cleaning his empties off the floor. The look on her face telegraphed everything before she even opened her mouth. She was going to ask him things he didn't want to say.

"What happened last night," she asked.

He cursed, the unfamiliar harsh words spitting out of his mouth. She flinched and he immediately regretted it. The outburst was out of character and he was appalled that he had startled her, or worse that he might have actually frightened her. He sat down on the couch like his strings had been cut, his head in his hands. He spoke to his knees, "The blood types didn't match." He sounded deflated.

She sat down next him, hand hovering over his back but not touching. He could feel the heat through the cotton she was so close. He kept talking.

"It wasn't him. There were two of them and Barry isn't a match." He couldn't decide if he was feeling relief or desolation. Or was it terror at the thought that there were two of them out there and he had no idea who it could be. Most of that night was still a blur. Tears were slowly wetting his cheeks, clumping his eyelashes, and he didn't even know they had been falling. He barely registered the change in position when his body folded sideways, his head landing neatly in her lap. Her hand on his shoulder guided him, urged him onto his side. The tears stopped flowing.

"Oh, honey," she soothed and lightly brushed the hairs at the back of his neck. He relaxed, drifting, as she made some calls and moved up girls night by a couple hours.

He didn't sleep much that night. He couldn't bring himself to drink the sangria on his kitchen counter. Halfway through the first romcom he was feeling much better, though. The women's enthusiasm proved infectious. When they were starting the second one he was grumbling about chick flicks and cheerleader beer with a grin on his face. The end of the third found the five of them piled on the couch, Erika sprawled on top and snoring lightly. Jensen was grinning from ear to ear at Maya's remarks that Erika should consider losing a little weight if she continued to insist on using the rest of them like a heated mattress.

Jared didn't call. Two days later Jensen changed the number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugar Ray Robinson was a professional welterweight and middleweight boxer from 1940 to 1965. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1990 and in 2006 was featured on a commemorative stamp by the USPS.
> 
> EDITED: 29 October 2015


	20. 20: Dude, Where's My...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: alcohol intoxication

**Jared's POV**

He could feel the heavy bass beat in his bones. It wasn't so loud that he would need hearing aides tomorrow, but the steady thump was realigning his heartbeat the longer it went on. Speaking of which, it gave a jump and beat a little faster as a woman drunkenly slid into his lap. Her arms loosely wound around his neck and her knees bracketed his hips.

She leaned in and he heard, "I bet you've got a monster in there. Can I play," in a relaxed sultry voice over the din.

She giggled when he set her back on her feet and shook his head, "Not interested." He was betting she'd been around the room, made laps even, and he wasn't into casual anonymous sex anymore. Or sloppy seconds. Not that either had ever been his go-to.

She pouted, clearly not upset, and put the same moves on a woman sitting across from him. She gave him a wink before taking full advantage of her offer.

Carter's Boston gamble had paid off. He had landed a three episode minor character on a hit cop procedural show and became a fan favorite. That was why he was here now. The last two nights had been spent on stage at a convention. The cast was flying out late tomorrow and it seemed to be tradition that the star with the biggest hotel room got to host the after party before shipping out for the next one.

Jared was amused at how exceedingly difficult it was to say no to someone on their birthday, even when said birthday had passed by last month. He had tried. His emphatic 'no' had earned him a big smile and an even more determined birthday boy. For his part Carter had presented a pretty solid argument. The name Matt Bomer had been the deciding factor. Solid enough to keep him from his post-midterms hibernation. Solid enough to keep him here when he wasn't really feeling this sort of party.

His reluctance, however, hadn't been left to fester. Jared was handed a bottle of some fizzy fruit beer that necessitated hunting down a bottle opener and was hooked. Before the night was through he had cleaned out their stash and his sour mood had vastly improved. Jared remembered fending off quite a few gentle advances and one persistent TV star he had been almost regretful to turn away. He remembered seven rounds of tequila and lime jello bodyshots. So many jello shots. The taste of lime was going to be a bit revolting for a while.

What he didn't remember was how he had gotten from the posh hotel suite to the bare metal bench he found himself stretched out on the next morning. His back was killing him, his neck was practically fused the muscles were so tight, and he had the hangover from hell. He opened his eyes, hissed, and pushed through the pain from his sensitive eyes. Once he adjusted to the light level he could make out more detail. The muted colors of a linoleum floor flowed below several metal benches and was caged by solid metal bars on three sides.

"Welcome to the drunk tank," Carter cheerfully informed him from above. "Don't worry. If they don't let us go soon the studio will handle it."

Jared groaned.

Carter peered down at him from his standing position, "You, sweetheart, really know how to let loose once you, you know, let loose."

Disjointed flashes of memory came back to him. "Was there a chicken?"

"There was Foghorn Leghorn," Carter explained. "And you discovered a thing for feathers," he added with a lewd eyebrow wiggle.

That brought the memory of a buxom brunette wearing a purple feathered boa. She was thankfully fully clothed, running her fingers through his hair as he cried... Oh god. So embarrassing. He had sobbed, snot and tears and all, on her knee. The entire time he had been babbling near incoherently about his heartless bitch of a mother and her campaign against Jensen. He really hoped he never saw her again or he'd die from embarrassment. Not only had he spilled his morose guts but he rolled around on the floor with her boa draped across his face afterwards. Had he somehow gotten his hands on some absinthe and didn't remember it? 

Speaking of which, Jared lifted his head, suddenly curious at what he would find. He didn't remember anything too weird after the feathered boa incident. Certainly nothing worthy of waking up in a holding cell. He had no hidden desire for a new tattoo and was half-expecting to find a penis drawn on him somewhere. It sounded a bit like something Carter could do. The feathered boa tickled his nose when he looked down the length of his body. He sneezed. "What the hell?" He yanked and the boa hit the floor.

Carter laughed, "Told ya," then groaned and held his head in one hand, obviously feeling the unpleasant glow of his own hangover.

Someone, Jared thought his name was Louis, clapped Carter on the back. "I keep tellin' ya not to mix sake and tequila. Never listen," he said brightly.

"Not helping, Less," he grumped.

Less put up his hands in surrender and went to sit with the rest of the group. Jared recognized some of them from the party. One turned around and said, "You so owe me, asshole. Walter is on his way." That seemed to brighten everyone's mood.

The next hour consisted of slowly going over their recollections of the night. What he hadn't pieced together himself was filled in with laughter and mutual humiliation. Water bottles had been passed out and emptied gratefully. By the time the mysterious Walter arrived the entire story was out in the open except for one part.

"How did we end up in here," Carter blurted out.

One man turned bright red and ducked his head. "I, uh, sorta pissed in a fountain," he mumbled.

Another man added, "After the bobby started yelling at us to go home and sleep it off."

Jared remembered, "She was not amused."

"Hauled us all in and said we could sleep it off here," the fourth and last unhappy occupant of the holding cell griped.

Their impromptu venting session was interrupted by the sound of expensive leather wingtips on tile. Five sets of eyes watched a portly man in a suit walk into view. He scowled, "Am I to assume you no longer wish to impose upon the hospitality of this fine establishment?"

A chorus of groans answered his question and he broke into a wide grin. "Well, then, it is fortunate I have already secured your freedom," he cheerfully replied.

The officer finally got the door open, swinging the metal wide.

"Come on then. I don't have all day."

They came out single file. Carter patted the man on the shoulder as he passed. "You are a wizard, Walter."

Walter scrunched his nose, managing to look cultured and composed despite the expression on his face. "No need of that," he said, sounding almost embarrassed at the praise.

Jared hesitated at the threshold of the holding cell, looking uncertain. Technically he wasn't someone the studio should be concerned about. Carter reached back to yank him into the group and their next stop was already being discussed. Coffee. Coffee was the next order of business everyone agreed as they left. Jared was pulled along in the current, happy to feel like he belonged for just a little while longer.

Jared was waiting for his drink, humming to a catchy tune playing from the cafe's small radio. Out of habit he reached into the pocket of his jacket and found... Nothing. He started checking his other pockets and found... his wallet, his apartment keys, some spare change, a Batman rubber duck (What the hell?). He stuffed that last one in the trash before anyone could see it.

He raised his voice over the music, "Carter? Hey, Carter."

"Yo?"

"You seen my phone?" He should have called Jensen last night. Needed to call him today.

"Uh."

Not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm an American. Please forgive any inaccuracies in my portrayal of the British legal system. I did my best to keep it as generic as possible.
> 
> EDITED: 29 October 2015


	21. 21: Keep on Keeping On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery no matter how you begin the journey is filled with potholes, asshole drivers, faulty ignition coils, unexpected detours, and the occasional fellow traveler.
> 
> WARNING: description of a panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is something my grandmother used to say.

 

_Red letter day and I'm in a blue mood_  
_Wishing that blue would just carry me away_  
 _I've been talking to God don't know_  
 _If it's helping or not_  
 _But surely something has got to got to got to give_  
 _Cause I can't keep waiting to live_

_"Many the Miles"  
Sara Bareilles_

**Jensen's POV**

The next week Jensen was crashing on Amanda's rather comfortable couch. He wasn't much better but his skills at hiding it had improved. He knew the 'road to recovery' was going to be 'long and tortuous'. He had heard those words a lot recently. It seemed he was always surrounded by what had happened to him, had been done to him, and he had needed a vacation from himself. He needed to get away, at least for a little while, from all those daily reminders; the office, his apartment, the grocers down the street.

Jensen's employers boasted customers over much of the western United States. When a job had come to his attention not far from his sister's condo he had pushed hard to get it. It was a small job, well below his current skills. Small enough that his assistant was his only traveling companion this time. The flight hadn't been too stressful. Though the plane had made him feel like a sardine in a tin can, it was merely the normal rigors of travel that took their toll on him.

The hotel room that had been booked for him was nice, simple but more than adequate for his needs. He had spent an hour in the gym, cooled off in the pool, and soaked in the hot tub in an attempt to relax enough to sleep. The unfamiliar bed in the bland generic room had reminded him too much of the private hospital room he had woken up in. Honestly, nothing was similar. The hotel room was a study in green and gray. The hospital room had loved the colors blue and purple. Even the view outside the window was drastically different. Yet, the feeling had gnawed at him until he had called his sister in shame.

"If it isn't the self-absorbed prick himself," his sister's arctic tone filtered through the haze of sleep. He had no idea exactly what time it was, but Jensen was positive the words 'too goddamn early' would serve as a suitable descriptor.

"What happened, Jared? You hit your head and suddenly decide to give a damn?"

"Right. And why would I do that?"

"Call him yourself, asshole."

He buried himself in the couch and pulled the pillow over his head for good measure.

"Real original. You could just, I don't know, tell the truth instead of making up some excuse about losing your fucking phone. You have his email. You have my email. You could have borrowed a phone or used Skype. What the fucking hell?!" That last bit had been whisper screeched and her voice carried well.

"No. You want to fix this. You do it without my help. I'm done."

Jensen didn't hear anything else. He had already drifted back into his dreams.

The next thing he knew there were golden beams of sunlight shining through the curtains. Morning had arrived. He blinked blearily at the cup of coffee hovering under his nose. Amanda had been the one to blab about her sure-fire method to get him out of bed on time. Coffee. Black, strong, hot, and within reach. He took a gulp without acknowledging the hand he'd snatched the cup from. The thick creamy taste hit his tongue and he coughed in surprise. It didn't exactly taste like she had put real cream in it. He pulled back and peered into the cup. The liquid was pale, frothy, and smelled incredible. There as also a suspicious clear film at the top. He shrugged and took another big swallow. The brew she had used was smooth, a quality blend that he unfortunately barely tasted as he poured it down his throat. "What is this," he finally asked when his first two brain cells responded to the jolt of caffeine. Once he'd gotten over the shock, it had turned out to be a tasty beverage.

"That's me, the Amanda coffee bot," she snarked. "It's called bulletproof coffee. I'll give you the recipe."

He looked up at her morning fresh face and replied sheepishly, "Thanks, Manda." He bunched the blankets at one end of the couch and swung into a sitting position.

She sat down next to him, munching on her granola and yogurt while her thumb flew over the screen of her smartphone. "Ready to tell me why you slept on my couch last night rather than the cushy hotel room I know your firm is paying for," she asked. She had always been the master of multi-tasking.

"I'd rather hear you dish about that hottie I glimpsed last night," he replied. He eyed the kitchen, trying to calculate the distance. At the moment it looked to be a bit too far. At least until his postural reflexes kicked in and he could accomplish something more dignified than his usual morning stagger.

She scrunched her nose. "Blind date."

"And?"

She shrugged, "I had to do something to shut you up." Between Eros, her last year of college, and his dumb ass, she claimed not to have time to work on a relationship. Jensen had disagreed with her assessment. She smacked him upside the head for the dumb ass comment.

The expression on his face was as close to contrite as she had ever seen. "Sorry." He hadn't meant to say that part out loud.

"He was nice. You weren't wrong. It's good for me to get out from behind the computer every once in a while," she amended. She finished her granola, crunching on the last bite while she queried, "Has Jared called you yet?"

Jensen sputtered, barely managing not to spit his mouthful of coffee all over her nice carpet. A mix of guilty and pissed off warred for dominance on his face.

Amanda arched one eyebrow and gave him a pointed look. When he didn't answer she broke the silence. "He didn't."

Jensen shook his head. "He called once. Wednesday." He looked away. "I should have insisted. I wasn't too sick to talk." He looked over at her, "Of course, you knew that already."

She bit her lip, "I suspected. How did you know?"

He chuckled, the caffeine already working to bring more of his neurons up to speed, "You aren't exactly good at being quiet when you're pissed off, Panda girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't call me Panda, Jenny," she warned him. That nickname hadn't been used since she'd pinned him to the dirt when they were twelve. He hadn't dared. "You weren't supposed to wake up." Conversation was kept light and restricted to work from that point on. Neither of them wanted to admit just how broken his relationship with Jared had become.

Hours later Jensen was going over building plans on his job site. There were entirely too many suits in the room. Most were completely useless in the field and unwilling to admit it. It made for a difficult situation. Jensen had trouble with people standing in his blind spots. He could feel their presence itching between his shoulder blades. It made him twitchy, unsettled. At times he could feel the panic clawing at him. His coworkers at the office had quickly learned to accommodate his new eccentricities. They knew what had happened. Barry had complained to half the office about getting dragged in for questioning before someone shut him up.

At present, however, he was surrounded by people he had never met. They didn't know his history. Hell, half the time they mangled his name so thoroughly even he had trouble recognizing it. They seemed nice enough, completely oblivious to the way their shoulders would brush against him in the small trailer office.

There were seven human bodies vying for space around the table. None were small or feminine. Jensen had never suffered from claustrophobia and it wasn't exactly claustrophobia that he was experiencing now, but the mechanics were currently working the same. He was white-knuckling the table in front of him as the blood pounded in his ears. The noise around him was gradually getting drowned out by a steadily increasing ringing in his head. He started concentrating on his breathing and when his skin suddenly broke out in a cold sweat he nearly ran out of the room. The door smacked closed behind him.

The Texas heat was a steadying, heavy of presence. It felt more real than the artificial bite of the air conditioning inside. He closed his eyes and moved his attention inward. He was safe here. He had to start believing it.

In 1 2 3. Hold for 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. Out 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8.  
In 1 2 3. Hold for 7. Out for 8.

He felt his heart slow its frantic beat.

In 1 2 3. Hold for 7. Out for 8.  
In 1 2 3. Hold for 7. Out for 8.

The urgency receded until he was able to open his eyes. And startled. The site foreman was standing in front of him, keeping a careful distance but obviously focused on Jensen. He was a burly man with a young man's back and once dark hair that was now mostly silver. He was talking low and steady, describing the sky above them, the rough gravel beneath his feet, how terrible the crew coffee had been this morning. All of it designed to remind him of where and when they were. When Jensen opened his eyes and saw the foreman the words stopped.

One beat, then two, and he finally said, "You good?" He didn't dwell on what had happened or ask any uncomfortable questions.

Jensen nodded.

"I know for a fact that the suits had some of their fancy coffee catered to the crew tent today," he remarked.

Most likely the aforementioned fancy coffee was simply a brew that had a taste other than the burnt rubber sludge he had choked down only a few hours ago. It was still guaranteed to be awful. Jensen couldn't think of a reason to pass it up. "I could use some caffeine," he replied. It sounded dumb to his ears, but the older man didn't comment.

They started walking. They didn't get far before the silence was broken, "You know, after Desert Storm I used to have moments like that."

"I wasn't," he started.

"I know a trigger episode when I see it. Nothing to be ashamed of."

The coffee was as bad as he suspected, but more palatable than the morning's brew. The foreman left him with a suggestion to find professional support of some kind. He filed it away for another day, or never. He wasn't so bad that he was suffering flashbacks. Couldn't be that serious after all. Could it?

He was feeling even better after he ditched his personal phone in the rental car. He had gotten tired of seeing the name 'Jared' flash across the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a livejournal (http://loracine.livejournal.com/) account and am in the process of cross posting this fic and others. Why? I got a creative bug and made some nifty graphics. Well, nifty for a girl that hasn't played with photoshop since I had to trash my Windows ME machine. Yep, it's been a while. Be gentle when you see them.


	22. 22: Ignis Fatuus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared is back in the states and Jensen gets the help he needs.
> 
> WARNING: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been writing Jared's thoughts as much as I should. I tried to be more in depth with him in this chapter. Also, I wrote this one a bit more plot dense. It certainly helped with my inspiration problem.

_Ancient scrolls have been unearthed in Istanbul providing detailed observations about a twinned soul pair that lived nearly three thousand years ago. Scholars have dubbed them the Lily Accounts after the archeologist Dr. Lily Oaken who unearthed them. The translation is not yet complete as of the date of this book's publishing, but what has been deciphered has challenged much of what we thought we knew. Most of the deciphered text concerns the woman's condition shortly after the pair was separated._

_Additionally, texts were found in a museum storage facility in China that seem to outline an experiment conducted during the Qin Dynasty. Various methods were used to identify, measure, and act upon the soul mate bond. The goal appeared to be creating an effective method of breaking the bond permanently. Distance was reported as the method with the lowest risk of death._

_This we do know, distance and lack of contact can have a profound impact upon a soul mate bond. Adequate research has not been conducted to determine whether this is due to the lack of physical contact or a lack of sufficient emotional contact. Long distance relationships are notoriously difficult to keep afloat and it is not uncommon for couples to stop communicating for long stretches of time as they grow apart. For twinned souls this may result in a weakening of the bond. This weakening, if not addressed, may progress and lead to emotional blunting, apathy, bond silence, and finally a complete disconnection of bond sensation. Though the bond is not known to break without active effort, the twinned souls eventually will be unable to communicate and feel each other through their bond or even summon up the will to care._

_Twinned Souls, An Exploration_

**Jared's POV**

Jared's shiny new phone rang, vibrating its way across the desk. He made a grab for it hoping against hope that Jensen had changed his mind. It vibrated again, the screen lighting up to reveal the word 'mother' on the caller ID. In disgust he jammed the red button hard to silence the call and got back to work. He hadn't been back in the states for an entire week yet and she was already getting annoying.

He really wished it had been Jensen. God, he had fucked up. He had fucked up so hard. He had promised himself that no matter what they wouldn't lose contact and it was all his fault. Sure, Jensen could start answering his phone calls already, he thought sourly. It had been Jared, though, that had broken off first because he needed to study. Academics. And he'd still been pissed about the 'we need to take time off' conversation.

His choice. The wrong choice. And now he couldn't feel his soul mate. Again. And something had happened. Something bad had happened to Jensen and he hadn't been there, hadn't picked up the goddamn phone when he should have. It had to be so much worse than he had assumed for Amanda to go off on him like that and he'd been oblivious. He still had no clue what Jensen was going through or what he could possibly do to make it better.

The phone started vibrating again and he swore the thing sounded like her too.

He rolled his eyes, but answered the call. Might as well get it over with. She wasn't going to give up until he did. "What, Mom," he barked.

"Jared Tristan Padalecki. Mind your tone with me," she chastised sharply.

"Sorry," he said meekly and then added a bit lamely, "I need to study." He didn't, but that was an excuse she wouldn't think to question.

"Your sister is doing so well with the firm," she gushed.

Jared groaned. She hadn't called to talk with him. She had called to talk at him. He could see it now. It would be the same conversation they had played out countless times before. "I'm not going to be a lawyer, Mom," he cut in.

"I didn't call about that. With your degree you would have no trouble getting onto city council and then you will work your way up to Congress. It's perfect. Did you know, being gay is almost fashionable now. We could use it to your advantage, take the rainbow vote. We just can't let you seem too gay. I have someone you must meet," she chattered on. When she got going there was no mercy.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not gay, Mom. And I'm trying to fix things with Jensen," he said clearly. It was the most dissent to her plans that he had overtly displayed in some time. Normally he just nodded his head and ignored her.

She made a sound of disapproval. That was the only way he could think to describe it. "Some back alley son of a couple of nobody public school teachers has nothing to contribute to your future and you know it. That disastrous website of his is the only thing he has ever accomplished and it's more toxic than the Exxon Valdez. You need to get far away from him before this whole thing blows up or you'll be covered in the stink too," she spat, the culture in her voice slowly giving way. He should never have told her about Eros. "Has he even answered your calls," she asked triumphantly.

He had no idea why he was still listening to this. He loved her, couldn't help it, but he couldn't stand the filth she had been spouting since he was a child. "I screwed up. I got distracted and didn't notice that I had been essentially ignoring him," he replied. A couple difficult weeks on the chat forum with l0nch and the others had helped him realize that. Well, that and the phone call with Amanda. It stung every time he remembered her words, but he couldn't afford to forget them.

"Do you still have your father's watch," she asked. The question came out of the blue, completely off-topic.

"Of course," he replied and narrowed his eyes. She never just dropped a subject, not when he hadn't waved the white flag yet.

She hummed, "Just don't lose it, Jared. It's a family heirloom and your father always said he could think better with it on." The man was so single-minded that he wrapped his car around a light pole because he'd been too focused on a case to bother sleeping. His mother's claim that something had gone wrong with the car, though false, had been easier to stomach. Sometimes he still wished he hadn't asked Russell about the truth.

"I wear it all the time," he insisted.

"Good," she replied cheerfully. "Well, I must be going now. Do think about my offer," she added before hanging up on him.

He scowled and looked down at the phone as if it had offended him instead of his own flesh and blood. She was up to something. She was always up to something. He just hoped he figured it out this time before it blew up in his face.

That afternoon found him in the square, a big bricked area of land in front of the biggest lecture hall on campus. Alen and a few of their friends had stopped by his apartment with plans to keep him from turning hermit before the semester commenced. He hadn't even been able to cry jet lag in order to get out of it.

Alen had taken one look at him, smiled, and said, "Well, if it isn't Little Jay. Back from the union jack," before grabbing him in a one-arm hug and thumping him on the back. That had been the extent of the man's heartfelt hello. Alen had a few masculinity issues.

First on the itinerary for today had been to meet up with the gang. That was how he found himself standing in the middle of a little demonstration staged by Team Free Will. What had started as an underground newsletter that Darla had signed him up for was now a statewide organization. Alen had filled him in on what had happened during his transit at thirty thousand feet. The Eros scandal hadn't gone unnoticed by him despite his busy class schedule. Not with his mother so interested in the subject. He just hadn't known about last night's announcement, the contents of which had convinced over thirty students to actually gather on campus three days before classes would start armed with colorful signs and hastily compiled flyers.

Such things were a common occurrence at the university. College students tended to be a bit enthusiastic when they chose to believe on a cause. Just last week the campus police had dispersed a sit-in for better salads in the junction cafeteria. A new salad bar had been promised by the end of next month in response and Jared couldn't help but wonder if a simple request signed by everyone involved would not have produced the same result. A little sign waving was hardly considered something to get worked up about. They hadn't even seen a campus cop yet.

That was bound to change, though. The square, a bricked space in front of the county courthouse, was packed with people and more were arriving. Team Free Will had gained momentum since he had left. Considering the press of people he was facing, he chose to wait on the sidelines rather than wade in.

Melanie found him almost immediately, his head well above the crowd, and his arms were quickly full of bouncy blonde, all excited energy. "Jared, he proposed," she squealed and displayed the sparkling rock on her finger.

He only managed a, "Wow," before she kept going.

"You should have seen it," she chattered on, her fingers very expressively gesturing to emphasize. Melanie was a hand talker and it made her look rather graceful at times. She was beaming as she described the 'magical' night culminating in a bended knee and ring. "And you have to be at the wedding. You are going to the wedding, right Jared," she asked.

He chuckled. Those two had been dancing around the subject for years and it was nice to see them taking a chance. "I promise, when you pick a date I'll make sure to be available," he replied. Maybe he could ask Jensen as his plus one and earn some soul mate points. At this point he'd try just about anything.

She squealed, tried to squeeze the life out of his midsection, and bounced back into the crowd. He didn't realize she had grabbed his hand until he found himself stumbling after her in surprise.

Jared was trying to talk his way out of playing maid of honor when he suddenly stopped speaking with this odd look on his face, something halfway between exasperation and discomfort. His pants were vibrating. He scrunched his nose and dug the offending object from his pocket. His phone had not been this active in months. It seemed everyone had decided that today would be a good day to call him. The press of moving bodies made retrieving it difficult but not impossible. The text message read, 'Check out the reporter.' Definitely not Jensen.

He didn't bother to check the sender ID. He assumed it was Alen, who had disappeared into the crowd when they'd arrived. It would be typical of his friend to photobomb the local news station.

His brother Russell was on the other end, "This is so awesome."

Jared looked around. The courtyard was packed with undergraduate teens and twenty-somethings. Shoulder to shoulder they chanted and waved handmade signs. He didn't see Russell anywhere. "What is awesome," he asked, genuinely confused. Why the hell would Russell ever call him?

"Off to your left, little bro. See the dishy brunette in a business suit," he coached.

Sure enough, to his left was a reporter with her camera pointed straight at him. He did his best to meld back into the crowd, disappear. "How many people saw that, Russell," he asked as he headed for open ground.

His brother laughed, "You were live on GBS. My little bro on national news."

Jared looked around at some of the signs people had made. The tone had changed since the new arrivals had brought their own messages. When he had first consented to joining Team Free Will it had been a student interest group focusing on freedom of choice, freedom of speech, freedom of the internet, and just about any other type of freedom they could think of. He had liked the premise. What was surrounding him now was less 'freedom' or 'choice' and more 'anti-establishment'. Unfortunately, some people had chosen to express this sentiment in a way that could be construed as 'anti-soulmate'. Quite a few posters aimed at Eros were a bit hateful.

He had never told his friends about Jensen. They knew he had a soul mate. Melanie had a soul mate out there somewhere and had known what she was looking at immediately. Soul mate marks were nearly impossible to fake and his was big enough and conspicuous enough that she had spotted it rather quickly. Actually talking about his other half was something he just wasn't up to. It was too sacred, too painful a subject to risk putting out in the open. Not even Carter had ever truly known.

"Earth to Jared," Russell said, breaking through his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry, just looking at the posters. It seems like the idiots have taken over," he explained. Melanie was not going to be happy. Her little group of thirty waving signs aimed against the Eros government contract currently in negotiations were being drowned out by the newcomers. Their messages were a bit more caustic.

"I was saying that I finally managed to stop drinking Mom's kool-aid. I got out, got myself a job in graphic design and animation. Man, if you ever need a place to stay just give me a call. You don't have to do what she says," Russell said.

He scoffed, "You already have your trust fund, Russell. If I don't play along I get nothing. Twenty-one. I just have to make it to twenty-one and I am home free." Saying it out loud made it sound worse than he had anticipated. It made him pause. Was he really that shallow?

"Just think about it," he countered. "I should have been there when you were younger."

"Russell," he began.

"I wasn't much of a brother. I left you all alone with her," he admitted.

"Rus," Jared repeated, unconsciously using a nickname he remembered from long ago.

"I think you hated me."

Silence.

"You did, didn't you," Russell asked.

Jared sighed. "I didn't hate you," he started, "I just didn't like you that much."

Silence. "Well, at least that was honest," he said. "Can we start over?"

The noise of the crowd was in the distance now. "I think I would like that," Jared replied.

"Don't let her push you around, and call me when she gets bad. Cause she will. You know, you really should cut your losses now. You can't win against her," Russell added. "Trust me, I know."

They exchanged schedules along with promises to actually stay in touch this time. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Jared felt lighter than he had in years with the possibility that someone in his family could actually be in his corner. He didn't trust it just yet, but this feeling was something he hadn't known in some time.

He closed his eyes and reached out, a burst of daring making him feel for the bond between him and Jensen. All he felt was a strange buzzing static. He pushed, hard, and it was like whatever he was getting had a very sharp edge. The sensation of a dozen jagged edges tearing into him made him gasp, tears springing up. It only got worse the more he tried to get past it, punch through the jagged barrier between them. His body's fight or flight instinct kicked in, responding to the very visceral pain. He pulled back when he couldn't take it anymore and the buzzing took over. The bond returned to its former state.

His mouth pulled down in a frown and he looked at his phone. One way or the other he had to get through. He opened up his email and began the first draft of what would be a long message.

**Jensen's POV**

Nick nodded to Jensen as he left the building. Jensen felt a little safer with his friend on duty tonight. He hadn't known just how perceptive the man was, but from the first day that he had stumbled up to his apartment, bruised and beaten, Nick had been watching out for him. He saw right through the thin facade, and he hadn't been the only one. Jensen's sudden nervous behavior and skittish reactions those first few days gave him away. None of them had known exactly what had occurred. Jensen had not shared, not then and not now. Nick, despite Jensen's attempts to conceal the hurt, had seen the signs and made an educated guess as to the cause. He and the entire security team had worked out a system to cover his movements while in the building. It had paid off.

When the police had told him that Nick had been working off the clock with the surveillance tapes and had actually found one of the bastards, it was one of the brightest moments in a while. There was even a lead on the other guy as a result. Said asshole's douchbag best friend had skipped town as soon as cold steel had been slapped on his buddy's wrists. That had been last month and he had taken to bringing Nick a pound of the good coffee every week to use in that shiny new percolator he had also purchased for the entire security office as a thank you.

He was still a bit shaken, though. The rapist asshole had been living down the hall. In his building. On his floor. He still cringed at even the thought of the word 'rape' or 'rapist'. Shit like that just wasn't supposed to happen to him. It had, despite his gender, and he was dealing with the aftermath. There were nights he would wake up shaky and scared with only disjointed half-formed images of what might have happened rattling around his imagination. He rarely slept on those nights.

Then he'd gotten the call that both men were wanted in California and Washington for stalking, assault, and a handful of minor charges. Jensen had spent the night awake and worrying that the other guy hadn't actually left, or that he had circled back. To make things worse, he was still experiencing anxiety in crowded places and his boss was beginning to lose patience. All of that and more had him climbing out of his comfort zone tonight in the hopes that he could somehow begin to breath again.

Jensen gripped the brim of his flat cap tightly and twisted. The little room seemed harmless enough, just a circle of chairs and an ancient coffee pot by the door. It had taken him a while to make the drive, to muster the resolve, and another week to actually get out of the car and walk through the door. Now that he was here there was no chance he was going to let himself chicken out. He was early, early enough that if he walked away now no one would notice. He wanted to run, to take the easy way out, sublimate the pain and forget anything bad had ever happened.

He took a deep breath, turned around to leave and smacked into a hard chest. Strong hands gripped his upper arms and set him back on his feet. He froze and had a moment of panic. He hadn't heard anyone coming up behind him. Memories, half-formed and more nightmare than recollection, bubbled up, threatening to swamp him. The stranger must have realized what was going on because he was quickly released. The big imposing figure then also took a step back and kept his hands in plain view as if to emphasize his harmlessness.

Jensen nearly doubled over while he focused on his breathing, slow and deep. In and out, putting the brakes on his racing heart rate. The other symptoms of his averted full-blown panic attack slowly subsided with it. Soon he was breathing easier and the sweat was no longer running in rivulets down his neck.

Pale blue eyes looked down at him from beneath a curly mop of bright red hair and the man's alto voice asked, "You here for the meeting?" He seemed to be completely ignoring the almost meltdown.

He looked up from his bent over position. The man was doing a damn good job of imitating an overgrown puppy, his face open and hopeful. Jensen was only able to stammer, "I..."

He peered at him and then smiled, "I am such an idiot. The name's Connall. You must be that guy everyone's talking about."

He swallowed. "Everyone," he repeated a little nervously.

He chuckled, "Riley usually shows up early and sits in her car until she can talk herself into joining us. Most days she does. Sometimes it's just too much for her."

And Jensen understood. This Riley must have seen him those times he'd driven out here and been too chickenshit to get out of the damned car. "Someone told me I should give this group a chance," he finally admitted. That someone happened to be Lindsay. She hadn't been too happy when he had refused to see a shrink. This group had been, according to her, the next best thing. Group therapy, ugh. Calling it a support group hadn't improved his opinion of the whole thing either. If his sister ever got wind of it she'd find some way to guilt-trip him into going even more often than he was planning to. Thankfully, he had been free of her special brand of suffocating 'care' since his last visit to her condo. It was much easier to lie over the phone, especially to her. He hated to make her worry with the recent upheaval at Eros claiming so much of her time.

Connall clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him into the room. "Excellent. Welcome to Safety Net," he gestured to the empty room as if it was a grand sitting room rather than the plain generic classroom it was. "You are going to fit right in."

"You aren't going to ask me questions? Make sure I really need to be here," he pondered.

He shrugged, his wide shoulders making the gesture seem almost clumsy. It was clear he had never accepted his height, sitting slightly hunched in the chair. Or perhaps he was trying to appear less intimidating to the new guy. "We don't exactly advertise," he explained. "I figure if you found yourself here in the first place, you belong here. The rest will work itself out."

"Thanks," he murmured and got a small smile in response.

Over the next ten minutes the other regulars in the group wandered in, poured themselves a cup of coffee, and welcomed Jensen warmly without the hugs and claustrophobic gestures he had been fearing. They were overwhelming female, with Jensen and Connall being the only men of the group. Understandably, considering the experiences they all had in common, the others were friendly but always seemed to leave him an escape route. A few were even skittish, choosing the opposite side of the circle of chairs and bunching together, safety in numbers. He tried not to let it get to him. He could relate.

As the meeting started and the official introductions were made his muscles slowly unknotted. He was beginning to realize that he was among people who might understand. They each had a cringe worthy story to tell, an experience that had left it scar on them both figuratively and literally. He ended up sitting next to Connall when the group leader finally took his place and offered the floor. Jensen couldn't bring himself to talk that first meeting, but no one saw the need to force him. By the end of the night he had several phone numbers and two crisis contacts, Riley and Connall. Both had urged him several times to call any time day or night even if all he wanted to do was chat.

By the fifth week he knew each of them by name. The meetings were penciled into his schedule and he had already explored the closed chatroom they shared with nearly twenty other groups across the country. He didn't want to admit it, but he was sleeping better and he wasn't nearly as on edge. He hadn't freaked out on anyone recently. Lindsay had been overjoyed when he had given her an update on his progress. He was certain if he hadn't then she and the others would have showed up at his door with wine, chocolate, romcoms, and questions. Spilling over the phone or during their regular girls night was much more preferable. He could choose how much, or how little, to tell them.

Slowly, the group taught him how to deal with what had happened to him. They taught him how to accept and move on. He was never not angry about the whole thing, but he didn't dwell on it any longer. Girls night became less strained until the easy company he and the women had once enjoyed returned. Jensen recognized the progress he had made when one night Maya made an offhand comment about an asshole that had gotten a bit too presumptuous, a bit too handsy, and Jensen's first reaction was not what he expected. Rather than withdraw and avoid the conversation he was back to his old self, demanding to know where the bastard lived so he could explain a few things to him.

Connall had a way of growing on a person. Riley admitted that his six foot six frame had initially scared her. One wrong move and she could be flattened. She explained that his size had scared her but the man himself made her feel safe. The first night he had insisted on escorting every woman to her car she had tried to slip away unnoticed. When Jensen first joined the group, though, Connall was trusted to keep him in line. He really did have a lot in common with a golden retriever, protective streak and all.

Jensen waited several weeks before he gathered the courage to share a bit of his story. Then one night he stood up from his chair, in front of them all. He fiddled with his jeans, picking at imaginary lint and staring determinedly at the floor. Tonight he was going to speak, wanted to speak. He had it all planned out in his head and yet he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't know how to start. Connall reached over and squeezed his hand. Jensen looked at where their fingers met and figured it was now or never. Might as well get it over with.

He cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. "My name is Jensen Ackles. I am a rape survivor," he began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed GBS (Galaxy Broadcast System) from DC Comics Superman. Go ahead, geek out. ;)
> 
> I know it is frowned upon to edit a chapter once it is posted, but I have added material to previous chapters. Nothing major has been changed and there is no alteration to important plot, so there is no need to reread anything if you don't want to. Just read below for a summary of the changes I have made.  
> Chapter 17: Added a reference to continued email contact between Jared and Jensen.  
> Chapter 19: Added a reference to Jensen's soul mate mark showing signs of neglect.  
> Chapter 20: Added some Jared feels.


	23. 23: Take Care and Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am almost ashamed to say I stole another romcom trope. *hides*
> 
> WARNING: This chapter is the reason for the tragedy tag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all of my commenters! Feedback is the food for my writer's soul.
> 
> Originally this chapter was hella-dark. I have gradually deviated from the set path over the course of this fic, however, and thus I rewrote much of it to accommodate the new direction I am taking. *squints* It's still dark. Maybe I should get you a flashlight.

To: Samuel Drew, Ph.D.  
From: Kevin Anderson, M.S.  
CC: Hanako Saito, M.S.; Alexi Witkin, Ph.D.; Harold Durant, Ph.D.  
Date: 21 July 1989  
Re: Inventory

Inventory was completed 15 August 1989. Items 2, 8, 17, 36, 53, 57, 63, 98, 126, and 127 are unaccounted for. Items 53 and 126 are labeled red. Item 2 is labeled white. Items 8, 17, 36, 57, 63, 98, and 127 are labeled black. All other items have been inspected, sorted, and placed into storage.

* * *

To: Samuel Drew, Ph.D.  
From: Kevin Anderson, M.S.  
CC: Hanako Saito, M.S.; Alexi Witkin, Ph.D.; Harold Durant, Ph.D.  
Date: 22 August 1989  
Re: Inventory

Items 2, 8, 63, and 126 have been successfully recovered and processed for storage. Items 17, 36, 53, 57, 98, and 127 are still unaccounted for. I am continuing primary recovery and have made successful contact with the subject assigned to each item. All other items have been accounted for and visually inspected.

* * *

To: Samuel Drew, Ph.D.

From: Kevin Anderson, M.S.  
CC: Hanako Saito, M.S.; Alexi Witkin, Ph.D.; Harold Durant, Ph.D.  
Date: 19 September 1989  
Re: Inventory

Inventory completed 18 September 1989. All items accounted for and secured.

* * *

To: Samuel Drew, Ph.D.

From: Kevin Anderson, M.S.  
CC: Hanako Saito, M.S.; Alexi Witkin, Ph.D.; Harold Durant, Ph.D.  
Date: 17 October 1989  
Re: Inventory

Inventory was completed 10 October 1989. Items 12, 39, 59, 77, and 78 were unaccounted for. Items 39 and 78 are labeled red. Item 12 is labeled orange. Items 59 and 77 are labeled yellow.

All items were previously accounted for. No unauthorized entry has been discovered and no items have been signed out since confirmed recovery after the study was closed. I have begun tertiary recovery protocol, subset unauthorized. A meeting will be held tomorrow at 6pm in Dr. Witkin's office. Please bring anything you might have pertaining to this development.

* * *

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_  
_I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you_  
_Anywhere I would've followed you_  
_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

_"Say Something"_  
_Great Big World_  

**Jensen's POV**

Connall was talking and he was saying some very reasonable things. "I'm not saying you need to reconcile with the guy. I'm just saying you might need to prove to yourself that a friendship between you two might still be possible," he pleaded. "I mean, come on, he invited you to his graduation." He tactfully left out the whole soul mate mark issue, because if they started on that one Connall was likely to try to kill Jared as soon as he saw him. That would do nothing to help the green eyed gorgeous he was lucky enough to call his friend.

Jensen walked into the kitchen and frowned at the complete lack of alcohol. It wasn't a new development. They both had some bad memories attached to the stuff and there seemed to be an unspoken agreement never to stock it. That didn't mean there weren't days that he briefly hoped otherwise. "I get it. I really do. But, I don't know how to begin to forgive him," he huffed before he grabbed a tea satchel out of habit. He and Jared had been exchanging sporadic emails since Jensen's first meeting at Safety Net. It felt strained and too impersonal even to him, but Jensen had insisted on keeping it that way. He hadn't been ready, probably still wasn't, to connect on an emotional level with Jared again.

The massive man with his fiery locks appeared in the hallway. He took the tea bag, dropped it into a mug, and flipped the switch on the electric kettle. Jensen was a menace in the kitchen. "I think you need closure, J," he replied with an apologetic look on his face. They had tried dating once and Connall had been unable to move past, well, his past. Now they were in this sort of 'bed buddy' arrangement that suited them both comfortably. Jensen wasn't spending much time in his own condo, alone with his nightmares, anymore and Connall slept better with a breathing body pillow keeping him company. The sex wasn't bad either.

Jensen frowned, obviously not a fan of the idea. "It seems pretty clear to me," he grouched.

Connall didn't look convinced. "So, I didn't find you crying into your pineapple juice Saturday watching Grosse Point Blank?" Then he pulled out the look. It clearly said, 'I am in touch with your denial.'

"Oh, fuck you. that is a very moving love story," Jensen grouched. The half-smile curling up the corners of his mouth gave him away, though.

"With lots of dead people," the giant amended.

Jensen laughed. "So, you won't watch Heathers with me and the girls tonight," he asked playfully.

Connall steered him to the couch, steaming cup of tea in one hand, and pushed him into the soft cushions to make sure he stayed put. "I'll go with you," he offered. Jensen was deflecting and Connall knew this might be the only way his friend would consider going.

It took Jensen a moment to follow the subject change. When he figured it out he scrunched his nose, "I don't want you to miss work for me."

"Think of it as a good excuse to take that vacation I've been wanting," he offered.

Jensen nodded. He could use the support. "Will you shut up if I do," he asked in surrender.

Victory was practically sparkling in Connall's eyes.

Jensen rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It's not like I would have gone without you," he said. He could do this. He had three whole weeks to prepare. He leaned back into the broad chest of his lover and decided it could wait for tomorrow.

Connall and Jensen took a few days off from their respective jobs, just in case Jensen needed time to recover, and booked a suite at the big chain hotel right next to Jared's university. Despite his optimistic front, Connall was certain that whatever happened would turn out to be painful for them both. He and Jensen had grown close since his first night at the group. He hoped that maybe they could work through their respective shit and embrace this thing between them. They had the makings of a couple headed for the long haul, old and grey with a lifetime of happy behind them. Connall also knew that Jared would always be there, haunting them, if Jensen didn't do this. No matter how much he wanted to be the man Jensen ended up with, he didn't want regret to poison it before it even began, even if it meant that glittering future he wanted might not come to pass.

Connall ratted him out to Lindsay almost immediately. Well, honestly, Jensen's big mouth after a little teasing from Connall had ratted him out to Lindsay. The girls, captained by Maya, gathered together a care package for Jensen. He wasn't allowed to look inside until after they had arrived at the hotel. He was just itching to open the brightly colored bag. Thankfully, he managed to wrestle the remainder of his suitcase out of estrogen scented hands and pack his own clothing. He could damn well color coordinate. Damnit. His work suit was evidence enough. Right?

All too fast, the day had arrived. The flight had been uneventful. The hotel room was generic, but pleasant. Everything seemed to be going well, except for Jensen himself. The ceremony would start that afternoon and he was a jittery mess. Had been since breakfast. Connall, his tolerance wearing thin, suggested for the third time that he sit down and relax before the trench he was wearing in the carpet got any worse. He managed another twenty minutes in front of the big hotel TV before he popped back up again.

"I, uh, I'm going to get some coffee," he explained. Maybe if he got out and did something this strange feeling would get better.

"The last thing you need right now is a stimulant," Connall said with a grin. "We could make a trip of it. There's an art museum a couple blocks from here," he added hopefully. He had scoped out the area, anticipating this very problem and had already floated the idea of a local outing to amuse them.

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I just need some time to myself," he said and then hurriedly added, "We could meet at the museum in thirty?"

Connall wrapped him in a loose hug and said, "Go sort yourself out." He seemed relieved.

Jensen wiggled away after leaving a light peck on his jaw and a low, "Thank you," in the air between them. He kept one hand around Connall's waist until pure distance made the contact impossible, the tips of his fingers almost clinging to the fabric. He shrugged into a light coat, offered a smile, and started walking. Before he got to the elevators he had already sent a quick text to Connall reading, '30 mins'. The cheeky reply made him chuckle.

A quick conversation at the hotel's reception desk had steered him to a nice cafe for a late morning snack and coffee. It was a favorite of the staff, promising flavorful brews and fresh savory pastries. When he arrived the place was quaint with a definite hipster college vibe to it even though it was several blocks from campus. He was tempted to order the cafecito to go with his pastelitos de carne, but lost his nerve at the last moment and ordered a plain decaf drip coffee instead. The description likening the single shot cafecito to cuban jet fuel for the body honestly scared him just enough. He'd come back and give it a chance when he wasn't feeling like he was about to fidget out of his own skin already.

Jensen polished off his pastries and swallowed the last of his coffee in a plush chair near the big front windows of the cafe. He was feeling relaxed and looking forward to a few hours on the town with Connall. An art museum would not have been his first choice, but the brochure he had snagged in the hotel lobby looked intriguing. A quick check of the time on his phone told him that he had about ten minutes before Connall would be expecting him. While he had been distracted the cafe gradually had filled with traffic and groups of students were spilling onto the patio clutching various exotic caffeine drinks and sandwiches. It was a minor victory that he had absolutely no trouble at all with that.

A woman's voice suddenly screeched the name Jared in a delighted tone filled with laughter and his head whipped towards the door, like a well-trained dog. There was a group of college students, several clearly too old to be freshman talking loudly at one of the outside tables. He let himself hope for one moment that he could get Jared alone, before the madhouse that he knew was going to follow tonight's ceremony. Someone else called, "Gerry," in a more comprehensible volume as a man no taller than five foot seven approached the table. The stranger didn't remotely resemble Jared, his Jared. A subtle anguish he could only name disappointment settled over him.

Jensen cursed himself soundly and left for the museum. What was he thinking? The chances of seeing Jared at some random cafe were too small to consider. There was another couple hours before he could finally figure out what had happened to them. He didn't have any idea how it would turn out, but he doubted he'd get much more than that for a while, if ever.

He didn't get far. Crippling pain from his soul mate mark seared through him, worse than it had ever been. His muscles locked up, paralyzing that hip joint, at the same time as he felt a blistering heat charr the crumbling edges of his slowly breaking soul mate bond. He didn't know that he had fallen to his knees with a yell or that he had one hand gripping his chest over his racing heart. He was deaf to the concerned voices around him or the sound of multiple 911 calls dialing. Everything was focused inward.

Jensen closed his eyes. Despair like he hadn't felt in a long time drove him. He wanted it over. He couldn't help the flash of blue-green/dulled ivory despair-guilt/inadequacy he sent over the few strands left stretched between them as he mentally grabbed for the pulsing angry bond, an open psychic wound. He didn't know he had also sent, "I wasn't good enough," before he swiftly tried to rip it entirely in half.

**Jared's POV**

Jared was floating on cloud nine. He was finally home free. His twenty-first birthday had come and gone. Nothing could stop the diploma that would soon be in his hands, a double major he was immensely proud of. Rus had even agreed to let him crash in his spare bedroom starting immediately. Today would be the day he could finally step out from underneath his mother's oppressive shadow. There was one thing left to do. By some miracle he had convinced Jensen to watch him graduate. College had been good to the man he had become. Jared was smiling, wide and happy, comfortable and confident with his friends. He looked good and he knew it. Even his formerly wiry frame had gained both height and muscle. There wasn't much left of the boy he had once been in his now broad shoulders. He was almost giddy with the thought of seeing Jensen again, in person and close enough to touch.

"I'm sure you are going to blow this thing out of the water, Padalecki," Alen said, referring to the job interview Jared had already set up for next week. "I know I will," he added, referring to his own application for a Ph.D. program at a competing university. He puffed his chest and one of the girls cooed before landing a punch to his stomach, obviously not impressed with the macho display. The goofy grin he sent her was all flirt.

Jared shrugged, reluctant to jinx his good fortune at even landing the interview in the first place.

Standing next to Jared, Ashley pulled an envelope from her messenger bag. "Guess what, guys," she announced. Her entire face was glowing and it wasn't difficult to guess what her announcement would be about.

"Oh you didn't," Melanie hissed. "How?" Successfully navigating the process to get a grant approval in child psychology was akin to surviving an epic Tolkien adventure unscathed, bloody impossible.

"I got my grant approved," she crowed in response, her blonde curls bouncing as the two women linked hands and jumped up and down like addled schoolgirls.

"Oh my god, congratulations! We are so going out for appletinis tonight," Melanie announced.

Alen was never opposed to a bar filled with drunk sorority girls and loudly informed everyone in the vicinity of that fact.

Group consensus quickly decided that lunch at their usual spot was in order. Jared graciously bowed out, citing a previous engagement. One last face to face with his mother, and he was dreading it. He had wanted to hold off until after graduation when she might be too happy to catch on before he skipped town. This was going to require some fancy footwork. His friends wished him luck, not truly knowing what he was getting in to. He hadn't talked much about his family, just as he hadn't been very forthcoming about Jensen. It had taken almost all of his first freshmen semester for Alen to even see Jensen's picture much less know his name.

Alen gave him a knowing look as Jared peeled from the group halfway to lunch, "Call me if you need the rescue."

The restaurant his mother had picked was not what he had expected. It was a quiet little place near the courthouse. He figured most of the suits in the place belonged to lawyers. "Mother," he acknowledged as he sat down.

She beamed, "I am so proud of you. My little boy all grown up and graduated. With honors." That was about all she said for the next hour, save for the occasional bit of praise for his sister's accomplishments.

His curiosity finally got the better of him. "Why did you want to see me for lunch," he asked.

She frowned and the expression was so fake he felt a little nauseous. That was why he hadn't gone home in two years. "Can't I just want to see you," she asked.

"Yes, but we could have done this at dinner tonight," he argued.

"You would have made a fine lawyer, Jared," she said. He opened his mouth and she quickly added, "I've given up on that. That doesn't mean you wouldn't have. I want to give you something." She pulled a small velvet bag out of her purse.

Inside the bag was a silver pendant. He didn't recognize the engraving but it looked rough, not the work of a trained jeweler. Weird. An ache settled behind his eyes, the beginnings of a headache. He put the pendant back in its bag. "I'll be right back," he said.

Color flooded him, muddy blue and green and a shock of sickly grey ivory. He could barely make sense of the emotions that came with them.

He made it about two steps before he tripped, his hand outstretched to catch his fall and breaking a tumbler on the way. He thought he could hear Jensen say, "I wasn't good enough," as the last bits of color flared over the bond. Then the wrenching sick feeling was over and he was grabbing for his phone.

He didn't see the thin smear of blood on the screen. The glass had sliced up his hand a bit, but he was too focused on trying to dial out. He did notice when his phone was taken from him, though. Hands helped him up and gentle voices asked, "Are you alright, sir? Can you stand?"

He scowled at that one and pulled away to sit in a chair. "I'm alright," he said, gently pushing at the hands. He noticed that though his mother had risen from her chair with a worried look on her face, she hadn't tried to actually help him. "I just feel a little odd," he added.

"Do you want us to call for an ambulance? That cut looks pretty bad," one man said from in front of him.

Jared wrapped his hand in one of the cloth napkins and replied, "No. Thank you. I can handle it." He'd briefly dated an obsessed premed who was now thoroughly enjoying her first year of nursing school instead. With a little begging and maybe some coffee bribery he would have no trouble convincing her to stitch it up. He really didn't want to spend his graduation day in the ER.

His mother held the velvet bag out to him and said, "Take this. I'll drive. You need to see a doctor."

He shook his head. He didn't know why but he couldn't touch that pendant again. "I'll miss graduation," he said.

She made a face and put the bag back into her purse. "Don't be silly. I've got better sense than that. We'll get you fixed up in no time, no hospital needed," she explained. She left a wad of bills on their table and started walking, apparently expecting him to follow. When he just stood there unsure what to do she turned back, "Well?" The arch of her brow got his feet moving.

She took him to the office of an orthopedic surgeon with a name he had never heard before. They didn't even have to wait in the lobby. The receptionist ushered him past the nurses and opened a room. Five minutes later the doctor arrived carrying a black leather bag and his reading glasses. Jared didn't have to say much. He didn't have any allergies and the only other thing the man cared about was how Jared's mother had been recently. They chatted on about her hobbies and the little charity she had set up last year as a PR stunt. He didn't believe for one second she really cared about the people that would benefit as a result. She'd be more concerned about the blood that had gotten on his watch band.

He was grateful for the distraction when his phone rang with an unfamiliar number. "Who's this," he asked.

"Jared," Darla said on the other end, "Don't hang up."

"What do you want, Darla," he asked. The split hadn't been without its troubles but he thought they had agreed to avoid each other for a couple years.

"I...," she began and he was about to hang up until she added, "That guy in the photo you kept by your bed?"

"What about him," he asked, steadily losing his patience.

"I just saw him wheeled into the ER at Lewiston Memorial," she explained. "I'm working reception today."

"Are you sure," he snapped.

"I...I could be wrong. But," her voice trailed off.

"Darla, you are many things. But, if you bothered to call me you probably aren't wrong. I'm on my way. Could you," he paused. "Could you just see if they've identified him yet?"

She sighed, "Yeah sure. Come find me when you get here."


	24. 24: When It Rains, It Pours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared sees Jensen in the hospital.
> 
> WARNING: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter that founded this story. I have altered Jared's section slightly to mesh with the current plot direction and added an entirely new bit for Jensen.

_"When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about."  
Haruki Murakami_

**Jared's POV**

"I never knew you felt that way," he said. He looked so small in the bed.

Jared opened his mouth intending to say something, but he didn't have words for the horror he had felt at the sudden realization that Jensen, his soul mate, had been wheeled into the ER unconscious. He ended up looking like a fish out of water, mouth gaping and nothing coming out.

Jensen grabbed the remote for the TV and changed the channel. A cheesy sitcom started playing, reruns from two years ago. "Save it," he said in a voice that was more tired than angry. "Why are you here," he asked.

Jared had expected hurt, sorrow, confusion, rage, even hate for his actions during the last few years. He hadn't expected this monotone and expressionless Jensen laying on the bed in front of him. "I heard about what happened," he replied. Of course he had come running when Darla had called.

"You got what you wanted, Jared. Leave me be," he said and turned up the sound on the TV. It was a clear end to the conversation.

Jared didn't know what else to do. One part of him wanted to stay by his soul mate's side no matter what the man wanted. The other recognized at least a piece of the magnitude of what had happened and knew the man needed some space to process. He needed time to forgive Jared for the last several years. And there was hope. Jensen had agreed to come here, and that proved there was a chance to make it up to him. He just wanted to explain himself so badly. So, he hesitated in the doorway, halfway between leaving and parking his ass in the chair by the door.

The choice was made for him when a ginger man pushed by him and burst into the room exclaiming, "J, what the hell man? Are you ok? What happened?"

In shock, Jared was ushered out of the room by the nurse with an apologetic, "I think those two need a little time."

"Who is that," he asked while peering through the glass window in the now closed door. The man had sat down in a chair pulled up close to the hospital bed and was now practically massaging Jensen's hand, his face lined with concern. He was shocked when Jensen not only didn't pull away, he placed his other hand over top and patted lightly, soothingly. He really wanted to know what they were saying to each other.

"Mr. Padalecki, is there anyone I can call for you" the nurse inquired, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He turned to look at her, noticing a hint of worry, and shook his head. He really didn't want to see anyone right now. Maybe she thought he was about to try something. He had used the 'soul mate' card to get in to see Jensen and he hadn't exactly been calm when he had arrived. "Is there any way I might speak to the doctor," he asked and watched as the expression melted from her face. Making a scene would not help his case, no matter how much he wanted to.

The nurse directed him to a sparsely furnished room off to the side and then hurried away leaving a promise to page the Chief Resident. In the next fifteen minutes he memorized nearly every aspect of the little waiting room she had placed him in. It was small, clearly intended for a single family and contained nothing more than a couple chairs, a small table, and some medical information pamphlets.

The doctor entered after knocking briskly, clearly used to the faster pace of hospital life. "Mr. Padalecki?" She was tall and her blonde hair was pulled tight into a french twist at the back of her head. There was even a pen tucked behind one ear and a stethoscope slung around her neck. She certainly looked the part. "My name is Doctor Allyson Tahir. I am the resident physician."

He nodded and stood, his mother's etiquette training kicking in, "Yes, ma'am." He even shook her hand before they both sat, the doctor perching on the chair across from his. "What can you tell me," he asked, "about Jen."

She leaned forward a little in her chair. Her face was a careful mask of sympathy and concern. "Honestly? Not much. You are not a family member or spouse. I have spoken to Mr. Ackles, though, and he has given me permission to disclose certain aspects of his treatment and medical history," she replied.

"Are you aware that you are Mr. Ackles' soul mate," she began.

He couldn't help it, he nodded. "Yes," he croaked and resisted the urge to point out the obvious fact that she wouldn't be talking to him if he hadn't used his soul mate status as leverage with the staff.

She bit her lip. "There is no way to do this other than just come out with it," she said. "Though nothing can change the fact that you are Mr. Ackles' soul mate your bond has been broken. Until his end of the bond has completely dissolved it will interfere with his recovery."

"Wait. Wait. Broken? What do you mean broken," he asked, almost angry at the thought. Is that what Jensen had meant?

"What do you know about soul mate bonds, Mr. Padalecki," she prompted.

"Please call me Jared. Mr. Padalecki was my father," he urged and she nodded her assent. "I know some things," he started. He had looked up soul mates online years ago. "Soul mates are two halves of one soul grown into individuals with their own separate personalities and desires, complementary and entwined but entirely unique," he rattled off. He wanted to say so much more, but he knew if he didn't stick to the bare facts he was going to get emotional and that would help no one.

"That sounded textbook," she remarked.

"It was. I've done a little research on the subject. My family was not exactly supportive of the idea. I know the bond normally develops around puberty. It requires proximity to establish, can change over time, and is different for every pair. I know I started really feeling it when I was sixteen even though I've known Jensen all my life," he said. She frowned but didn't comment. "I also know that they are enduring. There was this one study of people that had survived the death of their soul mates. Many claimed they could actually feel the other person even years later."

"They are durable up to a point. As far as we know the bond is indestructible unless one or both participants desire otherwise. For a true breaking, as I have observed in Mr. Ackles, it takes years of effort and both halves to accomplish."

"Now wait one damn minute," he growled. "If you are saying I wanted to break our soul mate bond you are gravely mistaken." He was full of righteous fury at the nerve of the woman even implying...that. "To throw him away...I'd never...," his voice trailed off as his throat closed. What had he done?

Her voice was soothing when she spoke next, her demeanor very calming and defusing. "Mr. Ackles' soul mate mark shows remodeling consistent with a long history of rejection. Also, the degree of backlash I observed on him indicates his end of the bond was much stronger at the time of the break."

"I...," Jared was speechless. "How?" Rejection. He knew that word. Soul mate rejection. It was the leading cause of soul mate suicide in the world. It was also incredibly rare.

"Think of it like a length of rope stretched between you. Each person can only effect the section closest to them. As one person damages the bond their end becomes smaller and weaker, frayed like the strands of a cut rope. Those frayed ends over time will dissolve so that when the bond finally breaks the energy of the resultant psionic energy release is muted." She gave him a moment to digest before she continued, "Mr. Ackles' initial injuries were not severe and mostly a direct result of the bond breaking but his recovery is complicated by the residual psychic damage. It is progressive. Both his physical and mental health have been impacted and we are doing everything we can to limit the damage. Mainly supportive care. We simply don't know enough about this type of injury."

He dropped his head to his hands. "And that is what Jen wanted you to tell me," he said in a voice that broke on the last two words. Tears he didn't want to fall were shimmering in his eyes. He wanted to deny what had happened, but all those nights where he had clamped down on the bond shimmering between them so he could study uninterrupted roared up into his mind. Had he been sawing away at their bond all this time? Had he truly been that selfish?

"He felt you should know that your soul mate bond is severed," she offered.

He looked up at her, knowing he had failed his battle against the tears and he couldn't find it in him to care. "Is there any way to fix it?"

She shook her head, her words failing to comfort him, "I'm sorry, Mr. Padalecki. The time to intervene would have been before the damage was complete. There is no research to indicate that a soul mate bond may be repaired once that has occurred." She pulled a business card from her coat pocket. "Mrs. Laura Roberts is a grief counselor at the hospital. She specializes in helping the loved ones of our patients and has a particular interest in soul mates. You might want to consider at least one appointment with her." She seemed uncertain and then added, "Do you want me to call and see if she is available now?"

He nodded, knowing only that he would try anything.

"I'll let you know if she can fit you in," she said. Then she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

Jared was still in shock. Tears were sliding down his face in a steady stream he couldn't seem to stop. His entire face hurt. He bowed over in the chair and sobbed for the first time since that night in the emergency room all those years ago when he had lost his father. Now he had lost his soul mate and it hurt so much more. He had known there was something wrong and he had done nothing, thinking there was time. He had thought Jensen wasn't going anywhere. That he just had to get through school and then he could devote his attention to restoring what they had. Now it was too late. He had gotten through school, and lost Jensen. He didn't see the point of anything he had accomplished when the life he wanted was no longer possible.

The same nurse opened the door softly. "Honey, are you going to be alright," she asked, true concern in her voice.

He shook his head and for the first time in a while he was honest about his feelings, "No, I don't think I am."

Outside a bolt of lightning cracked the sky in half and the windows rattled with the force of the resultant thunder rolling out from the impact. Big fat heavy drops of rain blanketed the hospital and everything in its vicinity. As the sky darkened with the storm's arrival Jared could only find a sort of dark humor in the parallels between the weather and his own bleak mood.

**Jensen's POV**

The picture switched rapidly as he advanced through the channels, pausing only to reveal a nauseatingly enthusiastic infomercial for a brief moment and then continued changing until it stopped on the evening news. Five hundred channels and not a thing he wanted to watch.

"And that is all from the hill tonight," the anchorwoman was saying. Her smile was bright but not as forced as some.

Jensen left it on, figuring he might as well learn a little about the world if he was going to be stuck in this bed for a while longer.

The camera switched to reveal a man sitting next to her. He looked like a cross between slick Wall Street and stuffy basement professor, not polished enough to be a TV personality but the make-up artists had done a good job on him.

The woman anchor, her hair piled a little high for the twenty-first century, turned her head and started speaking, "In other news, Eros stock took a massive hit today when cofounder Amanda Ackles announced her intentions to resign her position. Her replacement is set to take over at the end of the month. Ms. Ackles could not be reached for comment."

The camera switched again to get a better view of the man's face, sacrificing the perfect angle on the anchor in the process, a clear sign he was going to be center stage very soon. "We have business analyst Tony Molina in the studio tonight to explain just what has happened with Eros and what we can expect in the future," she said. The man straightened his shoulders just a little.

She turned to face him, "Mr. Molina, what can you tell us?"

He turned his attention to her. "Well, Lydia, consumer confidence in Eros has taken quite a beating lately. First there was the leaked memo indicating that Eros CEO Harold Gardner knew about the unfettered access being granted to law enforcement agencies, namely FBI, to customer information using a standing nonspecific warrant," he began. A graphic featuring the Eros logo and the FBI seal appeared behind them. "Then there was the revelation that members of the Eros software engineer team were in negotiations to compile customer information for integration into a national identifying marks database alongside juvenile offenders, felons, and government and military personnel," he continued. The FBI logo changed slightly, incorporating a scrolling blue binary code. He paused to take a breath, or perhaps for effect, before he started speaking again, "I believe your network broke that story. The fact that Amanda Ackles is essentially divorcing herself from the company she helped create so soon after this latest scandal is telling," he said. Amanda's picture, obviously taken from the press conference she had endured earlier that day, had been digitally added next to him. She looked completely at ease, but Jensen knew she had hated it. The moment she had escaped that three-ringed circus she had told him all about it via text.

"By this latest scandal, you mean the security breach," she asked, clearly guiding the conversation.

He nodded. "Yes. Eros customer data, including names, home addresses, credit card information, and even site activity was exposed way back in March of last year. We are just hearing about this now and so far they have done nothing to insulate those affected. We don't even know how it happened or what the weakness in their system was," he replied.

Jensen felt a little sad. He would like to think that if he had just stuck with it, if he hadn't dumped Eros on his sister and run, that none of it would have happened. He felt responsible, in a way, for violating the trust of his customers, and the few employees he had hired. At the time, though, he had needed some distance from soul mates for a while and the money hadn't been enough incentive to keep him.

"What impact do you expect to see on the Eros brand once the dust settles," she prompted.

"Eros is a durable product with no competitors. Even a token gesture to restore consumer confidence would go a long way to repair their reputation. I would say now is the time to pick up stock and then wait for the media storm to settle," he replied.

Jensen pressed the power button on the remote with a sigh. He had hoped Manda would have a little more time before the media shit hit the fan. He had worked hard to keep their names and their privacy out of the public view. There were still three weeks left of her 'two months notice' and now her name was front and center. Probably his name too once the reporters connected the dots, but that didn't matter so much any more.

Jensen felt the fingers in his grip flex, the pad of a thumb swiping gently at the fleshy webbing between his own thumb and pointer finger. Connall was hunched over their joined hands, looking out of place in the small room. As far as Jensen knew he hadn't been admitted. He hadn't even been moved out of the ER, per se. The doctor, a tough looking woman who had quickly earned his respect, had pressed her case, urging him to at least stay overnight for observation. Jensen had not been convinced. He was feeling fine and he knew what was wrong with him. All the doctors in the country couldn't put this back together again. Jensen was well and truly broken, but physically he was going to be fine.

Jensen looked over at his companion. "You ready to get out of here," he asked in a playful tone.

Connall did this adorable eyebrow scrunch, "If you feel up to it." His words sounded supportive, but the tone clearly stated his desire to stay the night. He had argued hard in support of the doctor and only accepted defeat when Jensen agreed to take it easy until their flight. To his dismay that included limiting his caffeine, sugar, and alcohol intake. This was not going to be fun.

Getting out of the hospital was much more difficult than getting in. Of course, he had been unconscious before and the staff had handled everything. He was still a bit embarrassed about that one, passing out like some blushing violet. The paperwork alone was daunting and once again he was forced to ride a wheelchair to the street. No amount of cajoling had prevented it and he had to give the nursing staff his grudging respect for not giving in to his shit.

He did call Amanda from the car. It rang through to voicemail. He frowned and dialed the only other person he knew would be available. Zaz picked up on the first ring, "Yo."

"Is she busy," he asked, not even bothering to introduce himself. If Manda's assistant didn't know his voice, or his number, by now then he hadn't been making enough of an annoyance of himself.

"Meeting with the sharks," she replied without missing a beat.

His eyebrows rose. Shark was their mutual term for lawyer, a bit insulting to the sharks in his opinion. "Anything I need to worry about," he asked.

"No, you're good. You're out. Remember," she replied.

"I know that, Zaz. That doesn't mean I'm leaving my baby sister to fend for herself," he asserted. "Have her call me, will you?"

"Will do," she cheerfully replied and then added, "One of these days I'm going to get you to call me Esmeralda or Miss Daisy like every other sane person, Jensen," and hung up. Jensen liked Zaz. She had spunk and since her paycheck came directly from Amanda he hoped she would stick around. She had a way of managing his sister without hindering her, reducing his own stress levels tremendously.

As his fingers scrolled through the contact list, pausing at the entries for his family, his mother and his father, Connall started speaking. He seemed to understand the need for silence was passed, that Jensen would welcome a little distraction. Jensen was going to wallow in guilt, trying to figure out how he could have protected his twin better, if he thought about it too much. "I called your father," he began. "Nice man. Wasn't too happy to hear you ended up in the ER again. I had to promise a visit to keep them from flying out here." He snuck a look at Jensen's face.

Jensen wasn't upset. He would have chosen to introduce Connall to his family personally rather than have him stumble through an explanation before informing them that once again their son was in the hospital. He felt bad about that, stalling until he knew better where he stood with the man. He couldn't muster the effort to be upset, though. His nerves were mollified a bit by the thought that he wouldn't have to break the news of his latest fuck-up to his parents, even if he knew they wouldn't see it that way. He relaxed back into the seat's plush embrace and gave Connall a small reassuring smile. One of these days he was going to find a way to thank him for everything he had done. He was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, things were starting to turn around.

They didn't go to Jared's graduation that day. He figured he had gotten his answer without bothering to go over their shit lives. He knew what he needed to know and anything else was bound to be excuses, explanations, and bullshit. He felt a little guilty for ducking his soul mate, but not enough to change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And that was supposed to be the end of the story. Jared was being stubborn, though, and wouldn't shut up. So, there is more coming. I envision no more than two or three additional chapters before this ride is over.
> 
> There will be a bit of delay, however. My semester final and the big big program final exams are coming up and I am going to be buried under even more studying than usual. I'll see you on the other side.


	25. 25: Discovered Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The truly scary thing about undiscovered lies is that they have a greater capacity to diminish us than exposed ones." -Cheryl Hughes
> 
> WARNING: If you didn't already, you will want to hurt Jared's mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope some of you are going, "Eureka!"
> 
> I am so sorry this took so long. Thank you so much for sticking around. I survived my final semester and the long plane trek home for the holidays. I wrote this chapter sometimes only a sentence at a time and you and this fic saved me from burning out before it was all over.

**Jared's POV**

_The truly scary thing about undiscovered lies is that they have a greater capacity to diminish us than exposed ones._  
_Cheryl Hughes_

Twenty minutes later, Jared was hesitating in the doorway. Her voice had been pleasant when he had knocked and she didn't seem bothered that he had opened the door but hadn't entered. He wasn't sure what to do, having never needed counseling before. The office was a typical room painted in pastel blue and green, almost like the inside of a fish tank. The little fish statues on the desk and the ocean-themed artwork on the walls completed the allusion. The woman behind the desk was not what he had been expecting. The name Ms. Laura Roberts had sounded like a plump grey-haired old lady with a couple cats and a doting husband at home. This youthful middle-aged woman with a weight-lifter's physique and scarily shrewd gaze was a surprise. Her second greeting was warm, though, when he hesitantly stepped through the door.  
  
She smiled when he approached, showing no reaction to his size as he towered over her desk. "Please, have a seat," she said. "You must be Jared. My name is Laura."  
  
He looked a little embarrassed but sat down in the stuffed arm chair, dwarfing the little thing with his size. "Umm, yeah. I'm Jared. Did anyone tell you why I am here," he began. He fidgeted until he was comfortable, or at least not so twisted up that he was cramping.  
  
"Dr. Tahir told me your soul mate was admitted to the ER today," she explained. "I would very much like to hear the rest from you."  
  
He didn't know where to start. "I. My. Jeh," he stuttered. He paused and took a slow breath. He was still a bit shocky from everything that had transpired. Laura didn't show any indication of impatience. He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "He," he croaked and stopped. He had been about to blame Jensen. It wasn't his fault, though. Not really. "Dr. Tahir told me that our bond is broken," his voice cracked on that last work. He looked away.  
  
Laura's expression was carefully neutral.  
  
Jared continued. He told her about the remodeling, though he only had a vague idea of what that meant. There were some horrific pictures online and he fervently hoped the damage to Jensen's soft skin had not been that extensive. She asked few questions, choosing to listen rather than guide the conversation. She was easy to talk to and he eventually realized he had told her about how close they had been as children and how it had all fallen apart. He even hesitantly revealed his worry that he was defective somehow. He told her about the times he had felt disconnected, detached from himself and his emotions. Like they weren't his anymore. About how he had slowly lost the drive to seek Jensen out and when exactly he had realized that he no longer felt his absence as keenly as he should. It had gotten worse when he went to college.  
  
"Why would you think that," she asked.  
  
He fiddled with his watch. "I didn't feel much of anything until after my seventeenth birthday," he replied. "I started getting worried after I turned thirteen. All the signs were there. Jensen and I fit together so easily, our soul mate marks match... matched... and I could not imagine a life without him. It's just... There was no bond, just this empty hole that I didn't even know was there until my sophomore year." He took off his watch and set it face down on her desk, scratching lightly at the skin underneath. He was beginning to think he had developed an allergy to the metal it was made of. The angry red rash was getting worse. "And... It hasn't exactly been reliable since it woke up. Some days it was bright and others it was barely functioning." He looked down and mumbled, "I could barely feel him."  
  
"Jared," she said. "Jared," she repeated when he didn't respond. "Mr. Padalecki," she tried.  
  
He looked up.  
  
She was holding his father's watch and studying the engraving on the underside of the casing. "How long have you had this watch," she asked.  
  
He scrunched his nose and replied, "My mother gave it to me when I left for boarding school. It belonged to my father." He held his hand out but she didn't give it back. Instead she set it down and dug a small notebook out of her desk.  
  
"I might have seen that symbol before," she explained.  
  
He plucked the watch from her desk and looked at the familiar intricate lines engraved into the metal. "Huh. I used to have a necklace with the same thing. Lost it the summer before high school. Mom used to say it was the Padalecki good luck charm." As he said that he got a really bad feeling.  
  
She flipped through the pages, tapped the paper like she was confirming something and opened another even older notebook from her desk. This one was a composition notebook with a scuffed cover. She held out her hand, "May I see it again?" He handed it over and she turned it around. "This symbol is odd."  
  
Jared had no idea what was going on. "Wha," he got out before she whipped out a small screw driver and asked absently, "Do you mind if I take this off?" He didn't have the time to respond nor the inclination. She was too quick and he was too shocked by lines of red paint on the inside of the back cover after she pried it gently off.  
  
Neither of them touched it.  
  
"Did you know that was there," she asked.  
  
He shook his head, "Never seen it before."  
  
She pointed to the engraved symbols he was familiar with, "These call for concealment and clarity, though in that orientation it might mean quiet. It isn't quite right, though." She turned the disc of metal over, "I'm not entirely sure about these three. This one could be healing or balance." She changed the angle. "I think it might be active."  
  
That got his attention. "What do you mean active?"  
  
He learned a few things that day, all of them made him very uneasy. His graduation ceremony fe< hollow without Jensen there, his previous sense of accomplishment lost under the weight of this new knowledge. It didn't take much convincing for his mother to relinquish the pendant she had tried to give him. In fact, she had been entirely too pleased with his interest in the gift. So pleased that she failed to notice how carefully he handled the little velvet bag or that he simply stuffed the entire thing into his pocket without even looking at the contents. Laura boxed up the watch and the pendant. She contacted a colleague with her suspicions and he agreed to look at both items as soon as they arrived. After that there wasn't much left for Jared to do. He left a message on Jensen's voicemail and moved one state over to live with Rus. He nailed his job interview.  
  
It was almost two weeks before he heard from Laura again. She had given him a referral for a qualified counselor closer to his new home, limiting their contact as a consequence. Thankfully, she called him on his lunch break. The first thing she said was, "Are you sitting down?"  
  
He looked out at the park from the driver's seat of his car. It was a craptastic machine, but reliable. He settled back, resigned to spending lunch amid the slightly moldy odors he couldn't seem to banish from the upholstery. "Yes," he replied.  
  
"Kevin, Dr. Anderson, got back to me today. It took a little time to confirm his suspicions, but I wanted to call you as soon as I knew," she began. "There was a big study conducted in the late 1980s on some traditional methods of influencing a soul mate bond. Specifically, the use of certain substances and mystical symbols. Most of the methods tested were completely inert or had minimal effect that could be attributed to the placebo effect. Kevin was the doctoral student in charge of the equipment and I remembered him telling me about some items that had gone missing not long after the study was closed. All of those items had profound activity. The watch and the pendant match the description of two of them and he also told me about a pendant that had the same engraving as the watch. It has been missing as well."  
  
She paused.  
  
"I'll forward the full report he sent me, but basically the symbols on the watch silence a soul mate bond. It isn't known to do any actual damage, but with how long you've been in contact with it and how young it began... There is no way to know for sure. He says it may have prevented your bond from maturing fully and might have delayed its activation. The other markings we found were not part of the study. He thinks it may have been added as a sort of anti-compulsion. He consulted a colleague of his, a Dr. Farningham. I'll include his contact information as well. It is possible those two symbols combined may have caused some of the blunting of your emotions that you told me about."  
  
She hesitated, shuffling papers, and he cut in, "And the pendant?"  
  
She sighed, "Kevin spent years looking for that thing. It is very dangerous. He's already melted it down. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. I'm glad its gone. But, what did it do? I only touched it for a second and it felt awful," Jared added.  
  
"That pendant didn't even make it into the bigger study because during initial testing it actually damaged the bond of a participant so badly it took nearly a decade for him to recover. With your bond already weakened it is very possible that touching the pendant caused the break," she said in a soft voice.  
  
He nearly growled out his next words, "Tell Kevin he can keep the damned watch." When he had calmed down a little he continued, "Tell me something. Is there any way my mother could have known?" Did she do this on purpose?  
  
"I really don't know. Someone added that second symbol, but there is no way to find out who or when," Laura replied. She sounded sincere. "If you really need to know, I suggest asking her."  
  
Jared's childhood home looked nothing like it used to. His father had chosen rich deep wood paneling and warm cream paint. It had been one of his mother's complaints when he was growing up. The current atmosphere was more contemporary and very generic. He didn't like how impersonal it was, like he'd walked into a furniture store. Every picture of his father, every possession had been scrubbed from the place. He turned in a circle in the main room just off the foyer. At least the corner where the family Christmas tree usually occupied had been spared redecoration and right behind it was a small shrine, almost hidden. A collection of family photos hung on the wall in small frames, clustered together.  
  
His mother made her usual dramatic entrance, sweeping into the room with a sterling silver tea set and english biscuits. Shortly before gathering the courage to return home Jared and Rus had sat down for a long talk, which had culminated in a call to their sister. Rachel had not been as callous about his predicament as he had expected. Though Jared had barely spoken to her except for the mandatory family holiday dinners, she had readily agreed to help him. She had become adamant after the entire sad story had been laid out in front of her, insisting on an active role. He had given her everything they had, trusting family even though he barely knew her, and she actually wanted to help him. Even now she was scouring the books to find some legal precedence in case their mother was foolish enough to admit guilt.  
  
His mother poured the tea, the fragrant steam rising from his cup was familiar. It was a blended lavender jasmine green tea she favored in the midday. The scent reminded him of gentle spring mornings, drops of dew still clinging to the leaves while he lazed about in bed as a boy. He turned down the cream she offered but accepted the palmetto honey she loved enough to order from Florida every month.  
  
"I am so glad you came to visit, Jared. It has been too long," she began.  
  
He took a generous sip, careful of his manners. There were ways to deal with his mother, the blunt approach never worked very well. She preferred a flanking maneuver cloaked in sugar sweet and very false politeness. "I had little reason to return. You never liked Jensen," he said.  
  
She frowned sweetly, "It is unfortunate that I was right after all."  
  
"Right about what," he asked.  
  
"About Jensen. He doesn't deserve you, never did, and now I hear he has rejected you completely," she replied smugly. "Such a shame."  
  
Jared gripped the cup, perilously close to breaking it. She was gloating. "I believe I have you to thank for that," he gritted out.  
  
"Mmmm," she hummed.  
  
This was getting him nowhere. "Did you know what that watch was doing to me?"  
  
"Of course I did. I needed to free you from that boy's influence. The watch was merely a way to clear your mind of that soul mate nonsense and allow you to make the proper choices," she explained.  
  
He forced a smile. "And the necklace," he pushed.  
  
"A trinket I thought you might find amusing," she lied smoothly.  
  
He tried a different tact, "I was hoping to get one for Jensen. As a farewell present. Matching jewelry to remember me by." The words were vile in his mouth and he had to force them out. What he really wanted to do was bruise her jaw and make her confess everything. Growing up a Padalecki, however, had given him plenty of practice at restraint. "It helped me with the bond. I would like to do the same for him."  
  
She narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but replied in a more hopeful tone, "A parting gesture to a former lover? I approve. Unfortunately, the pendant was unique. I might be able to get another made."  
  
"Please," he cut in, "Not to belittle your thoughtful present, but the pendant you gave me is not Jensen's style. He has always been delicate. I was hoping to order something specially made. A piece he can wear to any function." He was vaguely aware that he was beginning to sound like some Victorian era aristocrat, hints of snobbish asshole sneaking into his diction, and it was working well enough that he decided to regret it later. "I would really appreciate it, mother," he slathered on. He really hoped she didn't ask if he was wearing his, or figure out that he could get that damned sigil copied by any jeweler onto anything he wanted without going through all this.  
  
She pursed her lips and reached for her phone. "Very well. I never could deny you, my sweet boy," she said and he winced at the nickname. She finally held out her phone, showing a contact entry on the screen. "Tell him I sent you and he will do his best. The man is a wonder. Whatever you want he will find a way to get it for you. Do you know he found Rachel's birthday present for me? And for half the price of anyone else."  
  
Jared snapped a picture of the screen and checked twice to be sure he got everything. Then he sent the image to Rus and Rachel so they could get started right away. His mother was still chattering on about area rugs and oil paintings. He forced a wide smile, trying desperately to make it reach his eyes, as he made his excuses. "Thank you so much. I don't know where I would have ended up without you on my side," he said. "I am in a bit of a hurry right now, though. I thought I would surprise Rachel for lunch since I am in town. I even got her paralegal to order her usual so I know it'll be something she likes," he confided.  
  
She smiled, "You don't know how long I have wanted you kids to get along and start acting like family. I always regretted waiting so long to have you. The age difference isolated you far too much. For that I am sorry."  
  
Jared blinked. That had sounded genuine, a hint of the mother she could have been had circumstances been different. It was a dangerous thought, as he was tempted. Tempted to do what he didn't know and it didn't matter. Circumstances weren't different. He beat a hasty retreat despite the puzzling revelation, not wanting to press his luck.  
  
His next stop wasn't Rachel's office. Yes, it was reasonably close, and yes, she knew he was in town. She also knew to cover for him if their mother decided to snoop. The next item on his agenda was far more terrifying than Mrs. Padalecki could ever hope to be. He added the little bits his mother had let slip to the file in his briefcase and pointed his car to the Ackles' family home. He was going to lay everything, and that means absolutely everything, out in the open. If nothing else, he could give them a way to help Jensen. That's what this was about now. Oh, he was hoping for some sort of second chance. He still wanted some of the same things as his nine year old self had wanted despite the years twisting them both. He just didn't see it ever happening.  
  
The Ackles home was in better repair than he had last seen it. The gutters were new and the paint was bright. All of the old windows had been replaced with newer, more efficient models. Not much else had changed. Even the small, anemic tree out front was pretty much as he remembered it. The welcome was not as warm as it used to be but it was clear that both of Jensen's parents were willing to hear him out. He expected some sort of animosity from them and he may have gotten it if he hadn't called ahead and given them several days to prepare themselves. Even so, they were more concerned and curious than angry. He would have been spitting mad. He clutched the glass of juice Jensen's mother handed him and started with the file containing everything he knew so far. He didn't say anything at first, just left the papers on the table between them and waited.  
  
The next hour consisted mainly of questions, explanations, and apologies. Lots of apologies, even though he knew it wasn't enough. He was very careful not to shift blame from himself. Jensen's father, who had initially looked nearly thunderous when he had stood on their doorstep, ended up gathering Jared into a big hug and ordering him to, "fix it," in a voice that suggested it was as much for Jared's benefit as for their son's. If only it were that easy. For a moment he wished he could have had parents like these.

**Jensen's POV**

_so impressed with all you do_  
_tried so hard to be like you_  
_flew too high and burnt the wing_  
_lost my faith in everything_  
  
_"Somewhat Damaged"_  
_Nine Inch Nails_

Jensen would be very happy to never step foot in a hospital again. He would lump any healthcare facility in with his ire but he looked forward to getting his teeth cleaned again. Besides, ignoring a problem never made it go away. He followed up with a specialist who told him, gently, that the damage to his mark seemed to be healing and to expect the mark to fade slowly over the next couple months. The raised keloid scar tissue, though, was here to stay and it spanned the former size of his mark and more. He was ruined.  
  
His father's sixty-second birthday was a welcome excuse to get out of town and he did so happily. That was how there came to be a picture of Jensen sitting in his parent's kitchen wearing a cheesy birthday hat and blowing on a sparkly noisemaker. Amanda was ninja quick with her phone, and then put it up on Tumblr. Half the neighborhood showed for the BBQ and the other half turned up with beer after sunset. Jensen made his signature Guinness cheese puffs and didn't get to eat a single one. He turned his back for two minutes and by the time he returned every last one was gone. One cheeky bastard even left him a note on a napkin reading 'SORRY' in block script. Jensen tried to be mad. He really did, but in the end he was pleased that they were such a hit. Next time he intended to hide a few for himself before feeding the masses.  
  
The day after the party was not so easy, but it started like any typical day at home. He was one of the first ones awake, sipping on a big cup of extra dark chocolate coffee. Mmmm. Cinnamon and peppermint chocolate had no business being this tasty. He was reviewing his next project for the firm in golden glow of the sunrise. Not a bad way to start the day. Mom stumbled in and snagged her own steaming cup, scowling at anyone that tried to talk to her. They hadn't called her the dragon lady when they were kids for nothing. Though now she would mumble, "not human," as a warning instead of sending them to their rooms to get ready for school in her scary mom voice, which still worked on him by the way. She flopped into the big couch cushions next to Jensen and proceeded to use his shoulder as a pillow. Papa Ackles was the morning person in the family. Jensen had worked to follow his example and only managed to succeed in waking up early every morning, not actually being so chipper about it. He breezed into the kitchen with enough dexterity to make himself a cup of espresso and winked at the family matriarch as he passed. Amanda showed her face almost an hour later, yawning. Half her short hair was standing straight up and the other half was scrunched. This time Jensen made the espresso, in self-defense.  
  
While he was busy in the kitchen, the rest of the family tried to figure out what to do. Jared's visit had happened only a few days ago. The envelope was still sitting on the shelf nearby. They had all read it by now. Amanda had wanted to give it to Jensen as soon as he arrived. Mom had been the determining factor and she had forbidden anyone even breathing a word of it to him until he was safe with family, after the party. She didn't do it often, but once Mama Ackles put her foot down like that not even her husband dared disobey. So, they let Jensen sit back down next to Mom, where she could make sure he couldn't escape easily before saying anything. They even let him start in on his breakfast.  
  
He was halfway done stuffing his face when he started to feel uncomfortable. He looked up and asked, "What?"  
  
Amanda snickered at the drop of milk that made a line from one side of his mouth. He was still a messy eater in the mornings.  
  
Their father pulled the envelope from the shelf and set it in front of Jensen. "Jared came to see us," he explained. Now was as good a time as any.  
  
He looked at the envelope like it was going to get up and bite him, "And?" He thought this whole Jared business was finally over.  
  
"Honey, he wanted to say he was sorry for everything. He left that for you," his mother said. "He thought you might like to know what happened."  
  
Feeling petty he snapped, "He thought wrong."  
  
When Jensen returned home he found the enveloped tucked among his jeans. He really wanted to be mad at their meddling. He tried really hard, and failed. Instead, the call to his parents was pleasant and filled with reassurances that the flight had been routine and, yes, he had eaten dinner. He didn't know what he was feeling, but he was failing to feel truly angry at his family. The envelope sat unopened until one day he could stand it no longer. He set down his morning coffee, picked up the envelope, and carefully removed the papers inside. His coffee was cold, forgotten, by the time he was finished reading.  
  
He went out for dessert with Riley after the next Safety Net meeting. Since his first meeting they had seen four new members in their little circle, each with the same shell-shocked sort of look that he had once worn. The woman who had shown up today had hidden behind a mask of anger so prickly they had given her plenty of space. There were only a few rules at Swfety Net and one of them was that each person determined for themselves their level of participation. She could sit in the corner and say nothing for months and none of them would even think of making her feel bad about it. Hopefully with time she would be able to relax a bit, with them if nowhere else. Jensen picked at his food, making more of a mess than actually eating. His dominant emotion the last few days seemed to be confusion and it showed.  
  
Riley was concerned, "You okay, Jensen?" He made as many late night calls to her as to Connall on his worse days. The fact that he hadn't called anyone since his collapse worried them more than the constant calls.  
  
He nodded and spoke through a mouthful of chunky monkey, "Yeah. Got a job in Portland next week." He was a terrible liar. The project had nothing to do with it and they knew it. "I need some advice," he admitted.  
  
Riley nodded encouragingly, "Hit me with it and I'll do my best."  
  
He made a little hill with his ice cream and then demolished half of it in one bite. "If someone was really horrible to you and then you found out something that sort of explained some of what happened, what would you do," he asked.  
  
She scrunched her nose, "That was really clear, Jensen."  
  
"Oh," he chuckled. "Right. Ummm."  
  
"Out with it," she prodded.  
  
He fiddled with the last of his ice cream and replied, "I thought my soul mate was a complete douchebag. Now I'm not so sure." He was surprised it was the truth, even as he said it.  
  
She shrugged, "I don't know the whole story, but I would want to be sure if I were you." Her tone was almost chiding.  
  
He winced. She was painfully right on the money. He reluctantly agreed with her. He had a similar conversation with Connall, though that one was tougher. Jensen wasn't ready for the sort of relationship Connall clearly wanted. He may never be ready. Explaining that had been difficult and had hurt them both, but he needed to be honest. Their friendship unraveled a bit and became slightly tense and uncomfortable, like a favorite sweater that had shrunk in the wash and was now covered with woolen pils. Scratchy.  
  
The situation had festered until Amanda and her assistant had visited. Idleness didn't seem to suite either of them and boredom had driven Manda to start meddling. It was still extremely hard to deny his baby sister, especially when she used the sister card.  
  
He didn't understand how much things would change until their second day at his place. Connall was lurking about, refusing to leave Jensen moping. It turned out the bubbly, saucy little sprite Amanda employed as her assistant was male and not denying it. "I'm a gay transvestite not a transexual," he had pointed out. Zaz was actually short for Zander. The name Esmeralda began as a joke, an office prank that snowballed until everyone just went with it. Grissom executives had thrown a hissy for a total of a week until Amanda, awesome woman that she was, pointed out they possessed absolutely no authority over her employee. Zaz could wear a duct tape dress to work and the best they could do was bar him from the building, and she would follow. Jensen's fit of laughter at the thought of the bunch of stuffed-shirt blue-bloods screwing up his hard work nearly apoplectic with impotent outrage had left him red faced, tears streaming down his face, and his mood lighter than it started that day. Maybe that was why Zaz chose to share the story.  
  
It could also have been the big ginger softie in the room. Connall and Zaz hadn't met before. From the looks the little fireball was giving his big friend the interest was instant and once the truth came out it seemed to be mutual. Jensen knew what was holding Connall back from making a move and had spent the better part of the day scheming with Amanda to clear the path, so to speak. Eventually Jensen tried the blunt approach, out of Zaz's hearing range, and told Connall what they both knew, for the second time. This time it was with as much earnestness as he could muster. Jensen was a long way from settling into any sort of healthy relationship and Connall deserved better. That better might currently be in the other room and interested in him, and if Connall was interested as well Jensen had no problem with the two of them exploring the possibilities. He also threw in several reassurances, emphasizing that he should move back to his place permanently anyways.  
  
Connall and Zaz were adorable together, after they got over their initial awkwardness around Jensen. Initially it hurt, made him jealous at how they just seemed to meld together as a couple, as if they'd been doing it for years, reminding him of what he'd willingly given up. Convincing Connall to give Zaz a chance had turned out to be therapeutic and he couldn't help but wonder if he could actually entertain the idea of seeing Jared again. Would hearing the words from that envelope in Jared's voice make it seem any more believable?  
  
After all, how long could Jensen fan the false flames of a hate that had no business burning in his heart in the first place?  
  
He was beginning to accept that the answer was not for long, especially when hate was so far removed from the actual emotion he was trying so hard to deny that it was laughable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... 1 more chapter? 2? I'm still deciding. I'll get back to you on that one. It might be a month or more before I get around to finishing another installment. I am going to be taking the first of three exams for my boards in March and I want to give both endeavors my full attention.


	26. 26: Hurry Up and Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your bond is not broken, just mostly dead. And mostly dead is not all dead. Catch my drift?"
> 
> WARNING: none

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to Japan, the restaurant is from my imagination, and I blame Google for any translation mistakes.

**Jared's POV**

_A man on a thousand mile walk has to forget his goal and say to himself every morning, 'Today I'm going to cover twenty-five miles and then rest up and sleep.'_  
_Leo Tolstoy_

It took a few days for Jared to realize that his thoughts had always been tinted with Jensen's state of mind. He had gotten used to the subtle swirls of color, so much so that he mistakenly believed the bond had been normally silent. That was not true. Now it was silent, dead, and he thought in various shades of gray. His first monochrome dream had been unsettling. He had woken in a cold sweat wondering where the vivid blue of the sky or the green in the grass had gone. When it became clear that he could not recall the exact hue of a color without an example in front of his eyes he suspected he knew what had happened. It wasn't rocket science. Colored emotions had been the basis of his soul mate bond with Jensen, with it gone he wondered if he would ever dream in color again. By the end of the second month he knew the price of his betrayal and he was strangely willing to accept it as a reminder.  
  
Jared rose quickly in the rank and file of the company, swiftly earning the attention of the executives. Just as quickly he determined that he had made a mistake. The office was dreary, the work was dull, and his paycheck was not the motivator he had expected. His mother had been wrong about that too. There was not even the least bit of surprise that followed that epiphany. He quit and packed everything he owned into his craptastic car to hit the road, going anywhere but home. So much of his life had been shaped by her that he was just scratching the surface. Shedding one more, though, felt cathartic. About two days into the road trip his email got a new message, one he actually wanted to read. It was a reply to the last email he had sent Jensen.  
  
_Jared,_  
_I have read through the paperwork you left for my family. I am willing to talk._  
_Jensen_  
_555-xxx-xxxx_  
  
It was short, formal, and held promise. He stared at the screen, expecting to wake at any moment. He didn't call Jensen then, or that night. He was beat and his mind was going in so many directions that he concluded a little time to collect his thoughts was in order. Exactly how much could he expect from one simple phone call? He knew what he was hoping for. That had been decided long before he had started this journey and the more he found out about his mother the more determined he became to undo her machinations. Her entire house had been decorated with the Padalecki good luck charm. There was one over almost every doorway now that he thought about it. He hadn't given them much thought before. They were part of the scenery. With this new insight, though, he noticed that his younger self had never been further than about five feet from one of those symbols while inside that house and he had no idea exactly when they had been installed. Was it after his father's death? Or before? Had they been placed there for him or was someone else their original target? The watch had indeed belonged to his father. He had seen it many times on the man's wrist going to or returning from work. How far did his mother's treachery run?  
  
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. All of those were good questions and none of them had any concrete answers. Not yet. He thumbed over to his sister's number, knowing she was planning on quitting early since it was a Saturday, and dialed.  
  
Rachel picked up on the first ring. "Jared, get tired of the road yet," she asked in a light tone.  
  
"Did mom always have those symbols over the doorways," he asked.  
  
"Hi Rachel, how are you? I'm fine thanks. Working hard. You know," she replied sarcastically.  
  
His cheeks flamed in embarrassment, even though she couldn't see it. "Sorry. I meant to lead with that," he admitted.  
  
"No big. So, little brother, what's got you asking about mother's decorations," she prodded.  
  
He could hear the shuffle of papers on the other end, but since she didn't seem in a hurry to end the call he didn't worry about it. "You might remember better than I do, but when I was growing up there were these symbols over every door in the house. The Padalecki good luck charm she called it. It's the same thing as what's on the watch," he explained.  
  
"Hold on," Rachel said and the rustling sound got louder. "Yeah, I've got it here. The one that silences a soul mate bond. I don't remember that being anywhere in the house until after you met Jensen and he was hanging around all the time," she said. "She got weird, but I was just coming out of teenaged hormones and wasn't paying attention. I didn't connect the dots. Too busy with college applications and boys," she mentioned regretfully.  
  
"I guess that means she knew what she was doing," he uttered mournfully. "Any progress with precedence," he asked. He'd rather not dwell on events that had already happened. Not unless it could help their case, his case. He was just grateful she was willing to help now.  
  
She sighed. "Nothing yet. I am working on a child abuse angle too, but it looks thin," she added regretfully.  
  
He nodded. "Well, maybe we can make a precedence," he said hopefully.  
  
She surprised him by cautiously agreeing, "If it comes to that, we can sure try." He knew she was leaving out the qualifications about funds and legal stamina. If it came to that he would probably have to dedicate decades of his life to make it happen.  
  
Rachel promised to call him if anything came up in her research, but he didn't expect it anytime soon. She was a senior partner at a sizable law firm, one of the biggest in the county, maybe even the state. She was bound to have a backload she was setting aside just to work on his case pro bono. Jared didn't know the entire story, but he remembered that she hadn't wanted to study law at first. There had been some big fights, mostly over the phone, between her and father. He didn't know when it changed. He only knew that by the time father died she was well on her way to making partner in the family firm. He had asked her once what she had given up to follow their parents' dreams and she hadn't answered, but she had gotten this far away look on her face like she was fondly remembering something she had lost.  
  
He finally called Jensen. He sounded good. Halfway across the world, but good. So, they were going to make this official. They were taking time off from each other, Jensen's idea. That was better than never seeing him again and Jared now had no job and not much sitting in his checking account. His trust fund had been mostly empty, courtesy of his mother. She must have left the graduation and made tracks for the bank. That was another thing Rachel was working on. She'd put a junior associate on the case and the first thing he had done as Jared's lawyer was march into the bank and demand a copy of the trust fund's original paperwork. He'd gotten them too, all twenty-seven pages of legalese that had given Jared a headache just looking at them. Yet, he had been assured that his case looked almost ironclad. Or something like that. All he knew was that the kid had mentioned possible criminal charges as well. That had perked his interest. She hadn't even been the executor of the account. Rachel was. Father had changed the paperwork only a few weeks before he'd died. Mother's name was no longer mentioned anywhere on it. He had met all of the fund's requirements before she had nearly drained the account as well, so even if she had been kept as executor she would still have no legal leg to stand on. Jared figured she had someone at the bank in her pocket. His new lawyer agreed.  
  
So, now he had left Rus' spare bedroom in exchange for sleeping in some random cheap motel room or all scrunched up in the back seat of his car, without a working heater, when he didn't have the money to spare. The lack of a heater decided things for him. Jared headed south.

**Jensen's POV**

_There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness._  
_Friedrich Nietzsche_

The phone was ringing. He could here its insistent trill from somewhere else in the room. The bathroom, maybe? He didn't remember and he really needed to change that ring tone. It was seriously annoying. By the time he found the damned thing the person had hung up. He dumped the device on the night stand and got back into bed. He'd barely covered back up with the blanket before it started dancing across the surface and shrilly ringing again. He scowled and answered with checking the caller ID. His voice was rough, "Hello?"  
  
"Jensen? Were you asleep? I can call back another time," someone familiar babbled.  
  
"Jared? Wait. It's four in the morning, dude," he said, sounding slightly more alert than two seconds ago.  
  
"I can call back another time. Where are you?"  
  
Jensen yawned. "Nope. Now is fine. I'm in Kyoto," he explained. "Just gimme a minute," he said and set the phone down. About five minutes passed before a more awake version of Jensen picked up the phone and said, "Alright. We can talk now." Washing his face in cold water had helped. So had the bright lights in the bright white hotel bathroom.  
  
"What are you doing in Japan," Jared asked, too curious to leave it be.  
  
"I think it's called a quarter life crisis, or some shit. I quit my job and I'm talking to this little start-up about joining in on the project, but it's gonna take time and since everything is being done over the net I decided, what the hell, and booked tickets to Asia," he replied. Jensen was pushing twenty-six but he felt older, more weary. He'd already started and sold an entire company, found and lost his soul mate, taken the first steps toward a lifelong career and then left it dangling in the wind in search of something better. Those were the stories of a man much older than himself and he figured he owed himself a little wandering. "But, that's not why you called." He poured himself a cup of coffee from the batch in the french press he had started, extra strong, and headed for the balcony.  
  
"Umm, no. It's not. Your email stated that you'd read the paperwork I left with your parents. Did you read all of it," Jared asked.  
  
The faint sounds of traffic got slightly louder as he stepped outside. Of all the indulgences he had allowed himself over the last few days this was one of the most satisfying. He wouldn't have been able to afford a suite with a view of the city like this and a balcony to enjoy it on with his earnings from the firm alone. For once he had dipped into the money, actually the interest made by the money he had earned from the sale of Eros. He had stuffed it away, arranged a few investments and then tried not to look at the balance too often. He was glad he had decided to abandon that bad decision. This was awesome. "I've gone over all of it," he assured him. "Your mom is some piece of work. I mean, I wasn't her biggest fan before, but this has got to take the cake. You want me to send her a Worst Mom of the Decade award?"  
  
Jared chuckled, "I would love to see her face, but I'm working on something better. What do you plan to do now?"  
  
"I think I'm going to travel a bit. See the world. I've been letting things happen to me, grind me down," Jensen said. The jumbled neon lights and advertisement boards of the bustling city around him looked like a great place to start.  
  
Jared hummed, he couldn't argue with a little self-exploration. He was, after all, doing his own version of the self-discovery trek. "When are you planning on coming back," he asked.  
  
"I think we need to be apart for a bit longer, Jay," he began, his childhood nickname for his soul mate slipping out unintentionally. "We haven't been good for a while. We can talk on the phone and send each other emails. I just don't," he trailed off.  
  
"Don't what," Jared prodded.  
  
"I need to fix myself before I can give us a chance or it's never going to work," he finally said, his chest feeling a little tight.  
  
Jared didn't protest. Instead he asked, "How long do you think it will take?"  
  
Jensen didn't speak for a moment. When he did, his tone had gotten a bit more serious. "I don't know," he admitted.  
  
Jensen didn't go back to sleep after he hung up. A combination of jet lag and waking up at four a.m. kinda ruined that possibility. He was wired for sound. So, he finished the coffee and watched the sun rise over the water in the distance and glitter off the metal and glass facades around him. He didn't have anything much on his schedule for the day. There was a conference call arranged at two and he had dinner reservations courtesy of the hotel's concierge later that night. The morning, however, was his and he planned to spend it getting lost.  
  
Nishiki Market was a bustling center of commerce, almost reminding him of a beehive in its furious pace and purpose. He ended up ducking into a side street to avoid a massive swell of traffic, like a wave of humanity sweeping through the stalls. There was a little tea shop off to the right. He couldn't read Japanese. He was trying to learn the basics as he went and he wasn't bashful in pulling out his phone translation app if he got stumped, but he wouldn't need it this time. The painted sign with a large tea pot and a steaming cup next to it was a big clue.  
  
He wandered through the ornate carved doors, intrigued. What he had thought was a small tea shop was actually a tea house. Or maybe a tea room? He'd have to ask about that. It was sparsely furnished and decorated. The clutter of western design was completely absent here, replaced by clean bold lines and colors. Numerous low tables with cushioned benches set on the floor lined the perimeter of the room so that each table had a clear view of the others without feeling crowded. The center was even sunk down by about a foot and contained a small koi pond. There was even a low murmur of voices, an undercurrent of private conversations spoken quietly with respect to the other patrons in the room. Jensen took a deep breath and relaxed.  
  
A man walked in from a side door and approached him. "Irasshaimase. Uehara e yōkoso. Welcome," his English was clear with a slight French accent and bowed. He was dressed in an ordinary black formal restaurant uniform, and not the silken pajamas Jensen had expected. It suited him.  
  
Jensen, having learned a little bit since Osaka International and figured the guy wouldn't be offended if he tried, bowed his own head in response.  
  
The man hesitated when he rose from his bow, a slight frown curling the edges of his mouth. He pursed his lips and then the expression was gone. Jensen never noticed, too caught up in playing the tourist. The man smiled wide. "Do you prefer English," he asked.  
  
Jensen nodded, relieved, "Yes. Please. I only just arrived last night."  
  
"You are in luck. There is a table already open." He gestured to an empty table in the corner, "This way."  
  
Jensen looked down at the cushion, squinting. The man was about to say something, perhaps offer him a proper chair, but Jensen was not going to be vanquished by unfamiliar furniture. He finally looked up at the nearest table for a brief moment, noticing how the locals managed the feat. Then he copied their example and folded his legs beneath him to sink to the floor. It was an unfamiliar posem and not immediately uncomfortable. He wouldn't be able to hold it for a long meal, though. His knees and ankles were going to start complaining soon. He could tell.  
  
A small menu with seven items and very tiny English font beneath the larger Japanese lettering was placed in front of him. "Uehara has been serving tea for seventeen generations. We have four blends available, each tested and chosen for perfection, and three food options if you are hungry. You may choose to order a meal with tea or tea alone. My name is Isaac. Is there anything you would like to order now?"  
  
He scanned the menu quickly and decided. Breakfast had been his usual but all that walking had burned off more calories than he expected. He could eat. "I'll have the fried pork with ginger and miso soup along with your hibiscus flower green tea," he replied and relinquished the menu. It was a safe choice. He knew he liked miso soup, even bad instant miso soup. He was excited to try the recipe in its home country.  
  
The man nodded, bowed again, and took his order to the kitchens.  
  
The food turned out to be far better than the airplane meal he had last eaten and the tea was different than he made for himself. The flavor was delicate and not at all bitter. He enjoyed it immensely and was still sipping on the last of it when his plates were cleared. He almost didn't notice the innocuous piece of white folded paper left behind on the bamboo placemat before he left. Later he would be grateful at Isaac's boldness, and that he had thoughtlessly stuffed the note into his pocket on the way out. At the time, however, he wasn't and he didn't react well. Driven by fear, he had issued a hushed warning to stay out of his business before paying the check. There had been no threat to his words, just a promise that he would not be an easy mark.  
  
It took a while for Jensen to shake off the sour mood that had come over him that morning. He had experienced his shared of swindlers trying to con him into trusting them, or believing them long enough to benefit from him in one way or another. To have found one that knew of him literally across the world from his home was disconcerting. He was not anywhere near the top richest man in the world and he had steadfastly refused to join the social club. Eventually he managed to shake his worry. Jensen continued to explore, get lost, and duck into small out of the way shops along way. He even ventured into the city library, found himself at a museum or two, and made a fool of himself trying to get directions to the nearest bathroom or subway station. He even stopped by one of the many tiny gardens along his twisty path and texted Jared a selfie from the small bridge, barely two feet off the ground, spanning the equally small koi pond. When he was finished, he was smiling and his arms were heavy with the few purchases he had talked himself into buying, the breakfast incident forgotten. Even his conference call went well. Though nothing concrete was decided, he learned much about the project and seemed to get along with the mastermind, as she playfully called herself.  
  
It was that night, lethargic from too much food and too much saki, that he put his hand into his pocket and found the note, ' _The damage to your soul mate bond is severe, but there is still hope. A few strands yet cling to life, but not for much longer_.' Isaac had signed it with his name and what looked to be a cellphone number. Jensen crushed the thing in his hand and threw it in the trash with a snarl. Ten minutes later he was still half-dressed and snoring on top of the comforter.  
  
The next morning he was blearily staring at Isaac's phone number, having picked the crumpled paper out of the trash. His dreams had been about Jared, alcohol-soaked fever nightmares of loss and pain and never quite being able to reach the other man ever again. He had woken in a cold sweat, shivering in the morning light and cursing his subconscious. So now he sat, blinking and dehydrated, considering calling up a stranger for advice about his soul mate bond. He sent a picture of the note to a well-paid acquaintance, one he had retained for the business venture he was looking in to, asking for a quick background check and then waited for a response. It came in seconds, his phone chirping. The message simply read, ' _one hour_ '. In one hour he would know if Isaac was a conman or not. He might even find out the man's underwear size if his contact was feeling particularly industrious. In the end, after a shower and an entire bottle of neon yellow blech, he picked up the phone and made the call. The report that had arrived in his inbox had been unremarkable.  
  
Isaac picked up on the fourth ring, "Hello?"  
  
"Isaac? This is Jensen, from breakfast the other morning," he began, sounding a little hesitant. He had practically threatened the guy yesterday.  
  
"Ahh, mister 'stay out of my business'. If you are calling to tell me off again, I got the message the first time," he said.  
  
"No," he quickly cut in, "I'm calling because I want to know why you left the note for me in the first place."  
  
"You would not believe me," Isaac scoffed.  
  
"Try me," Jensen challenged.  
  
"Alright, but I warned you," he said and then paused. "I can see auras."  
  
"Auras," he repeated.  
  
"I told you," he began.  
  
"No. I'm working with an open mind here. So you see auras. How does that translate to soul mate bonds," he asked.  
  
"Auras are essentially the energy a soul gives off, not the soul itself. I'm not sure anyone can do that. But, I can see better than most and I saw what remains of your soul mate bond. It is not a single rope as some people describe it. It is more an extra layer, with its own unique texture and brightness that has merged with yours. That extra layer looks scarred or actively leaking on much of your aura, but there are still a few places where it shines," Isaac tried to explain. "I try very hard not to see other people's intimate business. With you I failed. I am sorry for that."  
  
Jensen attempted to visualize what the man was describing, but failed. That didn't mean he didn't believe him. "I was told it was completely broken," he protested, not willing to admit he had purposefully tried to do so. "How do you expect to help me? The doctors say nothing more can be done."  
  
"That is a discussion for another time. Regardless, your bond is not broken, just mostly dead. And mostly dead is not all dead. Catch my drift?"  
  
Jensen nodded, "I think so." He was suddenly hopeful. " Say I believe you. What do you want," he asked.  
  
"I want to help you. Isn't that obvious? But, I personally can do nothing. No one can. Only you can," he explained.  
  
"So, what, I come see you and learn all about how to save my bond," he asked and mentally tacked on a snarky bit about a hefty chunk of change.  
  
"No. I'm going to text you the names of a few books you can use. It's all about focused spiritual self-healing. Your case is very advanced. I can not imagine the pain you must have endured with that most recent tear. You are still leaking from the damage. I believe that is why I could not tune you out. Follow the advice in the books. Every day without fail. And start as soon as possible," Isaac said. "You may feel some improvement as early as the first week. I do not know. I am not and expert, just a man who can not ignore his eyes."  
  
Jensen considered it, weighed the sincere concern he heard in the man's voice against his own experiences. Logically there was no reason for anyone to stick their neck out for a random stranger, any random stranger, without looking for something in return. "Thanks," Jensen finally replied and was surprised to find that he meant it. "I'll let you know if it starts working." Who knew he'd find a Frenchman in Kyoto, Japan with a little helpful spiritual advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad that didn't take as long to write as I expected. One more chapter to go! I was thinking of doing a couple one-shots set a few years after Dying Embers. I love the world so much I don't want to leave it. If you want anything particular, I am taking suggestions.
> 
> My next big project is continuing the renovation and completion of Night in the Windows. Go check it out. I am very happy with the first two chapters. I have a little something I cooked up over New Years and it became this big huge fic. I couldn't stop writing. It's almost done and should be posted soon. I also have an SPN xover fic half-done at 7k words. Does anyone know of a big bang I could work towards submitting it to?


	27. 27: Happiness is a Sneaky Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open. -John Barrymore
> 
> WARNING: minor sexual-ish content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. The end of the line. Endings are frackin' hard. Chuck was so right. I apologize for the seriously long hiatus while I worked on this last chapter. Everything I wrote for it turned out to be a load of uninteresting crap. I ended up writing and erasing about six versions of this chapter before I was even remotely happy with it. Apparently, I just needed to write several fics worth of some seriously kinky porn to get it out of my system. Who knew.

**Jared's POV**

He hadn't intended to end up in the sunshine state. There had been no plan. Jared had driven, aimlessly zigzagging his way south until he hit the panhandle. Since he couldn't get any further towards the equator without leaving the country, which would be rather tricky without a passport, he just stayed, eventually settling on the gulf coast about halfway down the peninsula state. He started working odd jobs for cash in hand, moving on when the money got tight. At one motel he managed to get a month's rent in exchange for fixing a couple leaky sinks and a touchy fuel pump on an old truck. It was a far cry from the life he used to lead, but he found he enjoyed working with his hands, teasing out the answers to puzzles where he had only half the pieces and a smartphone to help in fill in the blanks. He finally stopped wandering for two reasons. One, he found a quiet little beach where he could stick his toes in the sand and bake. Two, he found a real job, with forty hours a week and benefits.

He wasn't even using his degree, other than the small increase tacked on to the end of his salary because he could put the letters B and S at the end of his name. He was glad he had come, though. The guest house he rented was a ten minute walk from Blind Pass Beach on Manasota Key. On his days off he would lounge around in his shorts, taking in the sun with his laptop perched on his knees. It felt like a lifetime since he had indulged in his old high school hobby and those first attempts made it painfully clear he was out of practice. A single paragraph had taken nearly all day to pound out and the flow was stilted by short sentences and simple word choices. He'd scrapped it in disgust, so many times that he almost gave up. Little by little, though, he ground down the rust until his words spilled smoothly from his mind onto the page. He was writing his memoir, of a sort. It was an autobiography centered around growing up as a soul mate without the ability to feel your other half. He'd found it difficult to avoid coming across like a whining child at times, but with every little piece written he was recovering himself, or maybe just finding himself for the first time, unencumbered by deceit and maternal treachery. He was seeing a lot of his life, even the things he had done, in a whole new light.

"Jared," a feminine voice questioned. "Could I ask a favor of you?" That was Shari, Jared's landlady.

He tilted his face up to the sun. "Be right there," he called out. Most likely all she needed was a jar opened or something retrieved from high up. She'd moved here before her husband of thirty-five years died of a nasty case of pneumonia. He'd been almost as tall as Jared, and at five foot nothing there were a couple places in her house not built to accommodate her short stature. Not even a tall ladder could remedy every situation.

When he stepped through her outer patio doors he found her wrestling with one of the sliding glass doors. It seemed to be jammed. "I think it jumped the track again," she complained.

Shari was a coworker. Jared had been very careful not to let slip to his colleagues exactly where he lived when he started. It had nothing to do with embarrassment. He hadn't wanted anyone's pity over the conditions that he had been living in, determined that it would only be temporary. His apartment had been barely habitable and located in a bad neighborhood. Englewood was not the most affluent city, even after the Northerners had brought their retirement money and begun snapping up the empty homes. His lease had been in one of the more dangerous sections of town, where desperation and greed had turned many to the drug trade to make ends meet. It had been only a temporary threat that he fully intended to fix after a good paycheck or two at his new job. He had it covered. He'd even picked out a few places to look in to, despite the fact that most of his choices were above budget.

Shari, however, was entirely too good at being nosy. She weaseled the information out of him, with as much ease as a TV detective, and then she moved him into her guest house for a discounted rate. It only took one almost tumble from a ladder trying to dust a ceiling fan for Sam to start making sure she didn't get into trouble attempting the more strenuous tasks around her house. Not when he could reach that fan with his feet flat on the tile floor. It was a good arrangement for both of them. Renting the guest house would have easily cost twice what he could afford.

"Don't put your back out," he scolded her. Last time this happened she had pulled a muscle and could barely move for weeks. He was still certain she had torn a muscle and should have gone to the doctor. She had disagreed, claiming she had lived long enough to know what a real injury felt like. Stubborn woman. He bent down and lifted the door back onto the track.

"Thank you," she praised and smiled.

"I'll, uh, I'll put some silicone on that later today so it glides easier," he replied as he inspected the track. He needed to adjust the wheels on that door so it wouldn't be so loose in the frame. Frankly, she would probably need to replace them if she still owned the house a few years from now. They looked original and were needing more and more attention to keep functioning.

She patted his cheek affectionately. "I tell my Gila all about how wonderful it is to have you around," she told him.

Jared blushed. He didn't do much. He worked long shifts at odd hours and the rest of the time he had his nose buried in his laptop. He was even thinking about getting a Masters. These days most of the work could be done online. It wasn't like mopping her floors every once in a while and carrying a few groceries from the car was a big thing.

"Did you call that man of yours last night," she asked as she poured him a glass of iced tea from the fridge.

He sputtered, "Um." He blushed brighter. "Yes?"

She looked up at him, looking every inch of the surrogate mother figure she had become. "Is that a question? Because if you need me to help you figure it out we better get your memory checked," she said teasingly. She peered up at him.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Uh. Yes. I called him." He'd almost forgotten, but the little yellow post-it notes he'd started leaving all over his kitchen helped.

She looked like she wanted to know more, but all she did was nod and reply, "Good. Communication can heal most wounds." And that was that. She turned away, probably heading back to her room, but quickly doubled back with purpose. "I forgot to tell you. Your sister called yesterday. She said you'd know what about," she said.

Jared stopped, frozen.

"Is something wrong," Shari asked, sounding worried.

He bit his lip. Shit, he must look as worried as he was feeling. Rachel had to be calling about their mother's trial. He'd sat by the phone listening to her report on the arraignment not long ago. "I'm fine. It's just, Rachel could only be calling about one thing and I don't think I'll get what I want," he explained. He hadn't yet. Not really. Why would this trial be any different?

She soothed his worries with a few wise words and he was able to write a few more pages of his book before he felt steady enough to call his sister. It was silly and he felt silly when he hung up with her. He was giddy, drunk on pure joy, and his emoji-laden text to Jensen halfway through the conversation was about as coherent as someone jumping up and down with a big dopey smile on their face could be. The prosecution was killing it. His sister's words exactly.

That night he couldn't keep his mind off his soul mate while he drifted to sleep. Little surprise, then, that the man featured prominently in his dreams. It was as if he was determined to go over every inch of their childhood, trying to alter the past. It was the last one that stuck with him to the morning. It was sharper, more real than any other dream he had ever remembered.

Jensen was dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and his favorite band t-shirt. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he had a smudge of bright blue paint just behind his ear. The sight of his muscled body made Jared's heart ache. He looked so different, so much older, so much stronger. He appeared to be content, surrounded by varicolored flecks of paint spattered all over the floor when he swiped the bristles a little too fast on the paper or loaded a bit too much of the paint onto his brush. Bathed in the golden glow of the sun, Jared could almost believe he was looking at an angel while a heartbreaking song played on.

_Practiced are my sins, never gonna let me win, uh.huh_  
_Under everything, just another human being, uh-huh_  
_I don't wanna hurt, there's so much in this world to make me bleed_

_Stay with me_  
_You're all I see…_

"Jensen," he said.

Jensen froze, brush abandoned in a cup of water by the easel. He hunched his shoulders. "Hello, Jared," he said softly.

Jared reached out, settled his hand on the other man's shoulder to turn him around. Jensen looked haunted, paint flecks brilliant bits of color stark on his pale face. Even his mocha freckles were dark in comparison to his skin. "Jensen," he breathed. He used his thumb to wipe a smudge of blue from that beautiful face, unable to keep his hands from touching, grabbing, holding tight.

Jensen scrunched his nose and turned away to pick up the brush again, but he didn't protest when Jared stepped up close behind him, pulled his smaller frame back against him.

"What-what is this," he asked. The canvas was blurry, smudged and out of focus.

Jensen looked up, studying the lines he couldn't see. "I can't get it out of my head," he said. He dipped the brush into a daub of sandy beige on his palate and started moving again. The muscles in his back and shoulders bunched and stretched as he worked, moving against Jared's front.

Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen's trim waist, craving the contact but unwilling to hinder the movement of his arms as he worked. "I don't understand," he admitted. He kissed one smudged shoulder, lips lingering on the warm freckled skin.

It was like Jensen was in a trance, barely acknowledging his presence.

"Jen, what's going on," he asked. Was something wrong?

Jensen didn't answer until he put the brush down a second time, the tension slowly leaking from him in exhaustion. There was a great deal more color on the canvas, but Jared still couldn't make out the image upon it. "I failed you," he replied, but it was like he was speaking to the air.

"No, Jen, no. You didn't," he insisted.

"What did I do to make you think I didn't want you," he asked. "I can't fix it if I don't know. I have to know." Jensen was agitated. He'd broken from Jared's embrace and was pacing in front of the window, golden light creating the illusion that he was glowing, lit from within. "I have to know."

"Jen, stop. Calm down," he pleaded.

Tears were streaming from his eyes, dripping onto the rough wooden floor. "I pushed you away. You deserve better," he sobbed. "I failed you."

Jared looked over at the painting and it snapped into sharp focus. His own smiling face from a couple years ago was beaming back at him. He looked utterly happy, healthy. A golden god in board shorts. It was the picture he'd sent Jensen from his tropical vacation. His stomach dropped.

"How will I ever make it up to you? How will I ever make you happy when you were so much happier without me," Jensen explained. Sobs wracked him as he fell to his knees, arms wrapped around his middle like he was trying to hold it all in. "How could you want me?" He felt the wordless fears, the utter lack of self-worth, in his voice, in the hunched misery of his body on the cold plank flooring.

Jared rushed forward, dropping to his level. He dragged his soul mate into his arms again and rocked him gently. "Shhh. How could I not," he asked. He kissed his temple, body shaking with each shuddering breath Jensen took. "Everything I've done to us, that I've let happen to us. I should let you go, let you try to be happy with someone else, but I can't. I'm not strong enough. I want you. I love you. I can't do this without you by my side. Please, don't do anything foolish. The asshole that gloated about his summer fling wasn't me. It was someone I became, but it wasn't me and I don't want to be that anymore. I wasn't happy, Jen. I just looked like it." Jared held the smaller man until his sobs quieted. He kissed him softly and carried him to the bed, snuggling the two of them beneath warm blankets. He cuddled close, folded his whole body around Jensen.

Finally there was a soft, "I'm sorry, Jay," as Jensen finally held onto him.

Jared looked over at the finished canvas. There was so much they both had to make up for. "I'm sorry too, Jen. So, so sorry. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm waiting for you," he replied. He clutched his soul mate to him a little tighter. He wasn't giving up on them ever again. "I'm here," he promised.

He woke, the dream dissolving like ribbons of thick pigment pouring off that canvas, to the gentle nudge of a mind against his own. A dizzying array of colors burst into life behind his eyes. The sky was blue. The grass was green. Tears were soaking his cheeks as his heart soared. It wasn't the close emotional connection they'd enjoyed before, but it was progress. He hadn't dared allow himself to believe before this. He tentatively reached out to the burgeoning lifeline, knowing that somehow his bond with Jensen was slowly coming back to life.

**Jensen's POV**

Jensen sold his condo and everything in it, he hadn't been particularly attached to any of it. Then he moved across town. There were too many memories embedded deeply in his possessions and if he was going to give this a real go he needed to get away from old emotions. He bought a building, cause why not, and converted the space into a bunch of open plan apartments. The first thing he did, however, was renovate the entire top floor for himself, complete with its own private freight elevator. The girls had been more excited about the damned elevator than they had about the rest of it.

Jensen also indulged himself in other ways. He put an art studio in one corner and learned how to paint. He bought an acoustic guitar and learned how to play. He was working up to some of the more difficult songs and one day he wanted to be able to play for Jared. He even threw in the macho towel and bought a set of knitting needles. It took a couple failed attempts, but quite a few people wanted to know where he'd purchased the last scarf he had knitted. Jensen was doing everything he could think of to get in touch with his creative side because the meditation wasn't working. Not fast enough, anyways.

The whole 'sitting still while you let your mind clear' thing just didn't happen, like ever. He'd almost get there, then his hands would start twitching and that would get him brain storming ideas for his next project. The big ideas would come crashing in and he'd be running for his tablet to get it all down while they were still fresh in his mind. His tablet's memo app was littered with half-formed concepts. Great for his business prospects. Shitty for his current undertaking, getting his soul mate issues straightened out so the two of them could move on to the 'being happy together' stage. He didn't need the money, and he had no intentions on getting anything else major done before he'd managed some good positive movement with his 'hopefully still not completely dead yet' soul bond. He figured it was about time he got himself a win on that front.

Jensen couldn't sit idle for long, though, and he wasn't so arrogant as to think he could fix all of his issues without help. It took him nearly a week of round the clock researching to find the best of the best in the various fields so much as remotely related to soul mates and soul mate bonds. He talked to a lot of academics. The whole thing was fractured, lacking any sort of cohesive organization or even a basic list of names. There was no community to turn to. It was annoying, an itch settling beneath his skin like it had when he'd realized there was no one working to unite twinned souls that might not ever find each other by sheer accident.

He resisted the temptation for about a day, lasting that long by sheer determination. He started with a simple list, the one he'd been making the past weeks. He wrote down names, addresses, phone numbers, credentials, areas of interest, and any other useful bits of information on each person he talked to in a spreadsheet. For a while that was all it was. Then one day a doctoral student he'd spoken to briefly called him, hoping Jensen could give her the name of someone whose field of study would be useful to her thesis. He did, several of them. Word got around and soon he seemed to be the soul mate studies switchboard. He didn't mind too much. People were coming to him now, helping bypass the often fruitless days of work digging up name after name until he found what he was looking for.

All of this didn't mean their bond was rejuvenated. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get regain those swirling kaleidoscope colors that had once revealed every nuance of his soul mate's variegated moods. The circumstances were disheartening, to say the least. Jensen had hoped to see more tangible improvement by now, even though he knew the gaping chasm in his heart was slowly being filled in, the tentative tendrils of their bond growing nearer to true connection. He just missed knowing how his soul mate was doing, all of the time. He'd barely given it a thought until he'd ripped the bond in twain. Those first few days had been the hardest, grief and self-inflicted injury warring for worst pain of the decade.

That didn't mean those feelings of inadequacy had vanished. Echoes still clung to his psyche like bits of tar stuck to the inside of his lungs, making the very act of breathing laborious. There were days that merely being alive hurt. They had shared one dream, though, an incredibly embarrassing one where Jensen basically dumped all of his insecurities on Jared at once. A shared dream. It had to be. He hadn't figured it out until he was reading a recently published study on dream interpretation and the light bulb lit up over his head. The other man's presence that night had been too solid, too real. That dream had been nagging at him ever since. It was progress, sweet blessed breakthrough. Finally, a win. He hadn't possessed the courage the talk to Jared about it, so he wasn't even sure it was in fact a shared dream, but he was operating on that assumption. He would not see it any other way. Stone number one.

This meant that his self-imposed exile was over. It had to be because he wasn't going to let it continue. Jensen hadn't just been working on his soul mate bond this past year. He might not have allowed himself to dive head first into another project, but without something else to do he would have gone mad. He'd devoured just about anything he could get his hands on pertaining to the subject of finances and the stock market during his free time. He'd known a little before, a necessity after Eros sold it's first batch of shares. Now he was looking at a few credits shy of a Masters in economics on his transcript, or accounting. He hadn't decided yet. Well, that and he really didn't want to write a thesis.

In essence, he had money, lots of it, and now his money was making more than enough money to fund his lifestyle and then some. For instance, he was seated in a charter jet small enough to land at the little airport on Venice Island and big enough to get him there in one hop. From there it was a short drive to the house Jared was renting. Jensen hadn't wanted to tell his soul mate that he was coming, so he bribed his landlady with promises of handmade truffles from the shop down the street if she could keep Jared at home for the day. He just hoped the man could forgive the deception. Shari was a delightful woman, but Jensen didn't want to imagine what sorts of projects she had dredged up to keep him occupied. According to her, she had plenty of minor projects around the house in mind and Jared would be at it all day.

When Jensen pulled up to the beach house he was struck dumb by the sight of the shirtless man perched precariously on a tall ladder attempting to clean the gutters. There was mud streaked down his arms, speckling his sides, stuck in his hair along his temples, and there was no mistaking who he was. Jensen was drooling. Jared had gained some muscle, sculpted definition only enhanced by the grime. The rest of him… Oh. My. God. His skin had bronzed in the Florida sun and he glistened, glowed with sweat. Lickable. Yep, if he wasn't careful, Jensen was going to drive this car right into the side of the house. The woman was diabolical. He stomped on the brakes and threw the gear into park while he was still struggling to retract his tongue into his mouth. If his mouth hadn't gone dry he would be drooling.

Jared called out, "Front door is to your left," as he stepped out of the sedan.

Jensen chuckled. "And if I'd much rather enjoy the view from here," he asked, shielding his eyes as he stood and looked up at the perfect bubble butt. Yep, Jensen was doomed.

Jared's head whipped around so fast he nearly toppled off the ladder. "Jen," he cried, startled. He was off the ladder and in his space faster than Jensen could have retreated back to the car to save his clothing, if he had wanted to.

He didn't even have the time to process what was transpiring before his nose was smooshed against Jared's sweaty neck as he was wrapped up in a massive bear hug, feet dangling. "Hehe. Oh. Ok, big guy," he mumbled. His arms were pinned to his sides, otherwise he would have returned the embrace, or flailed for balance. "You can put me down now," he laughed, but he made that a little difficult to accomplish when he subsequently wrapped his bowed legs around his waist, ankles crossed at the small of his back for leverage.

"No," Jared said, cupping the other man's cheek with one hand and supporting his weight with the other. "I kinda like you like this," he said happily. He dragged him in for a kiss, fingers threading through the short hairs at the back of his neck. It wasn't until Jensen's feet were back on the ground and he was straightening his now muddy t-shirt that Jared thought to ask, "Why… How did you get here?"

Jensen had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Well, you know. I took a plane, rented a car. The usual," he replied. "Look at you, though. I mean, video chat was lying," he added, biting his lip and shamelessly enjoying the blush that heated Jared's face. "As for why I'm here. I had a dream," he admitted. There had been something a bit more elegant for him to say, all planned out and written down to the very last word, but every word of it dissolved away the moment he actually had to start speaking.

Jared's eyes lit up. "You were painting," he announced excitedly.

Jensen nodded, relieved that he had been correct. "Yes. We did it, Jay," he told him happily. They had done it, against all odds and every doctor that claimed a broken bond could never be mended. Somehow the two jagged edges stretching between them had come together, seeking each other out in the darkness. He figured it had been a one in a million chance. Jackpot.

"I'm so glad you're here," Jared told him. "We need to celebrate. When do you go back?" He was talking fast, half dragging and half carrying Jensen around the side of the house to where a kidney shaped pool and the guest house lay. Jensen was too pleased with the contact, his hand resting over the other man's heart, to complain about the fact that his legs were working just fine. He could walk. He really could. This felt good too, though, he thought as he gave in.

Shari poked her head out of the sliding glass doors when they passed between the pool and her living room. "Hello, Jensen. Did you have a good flight," she called out, "You take good care of that sweet boy." She ducked back into the house before either of them could answer, a fond smile on her lips.

Jared looked from the sliding glass door to Jensen and back again. He finally settled on wrestling his soul mate into the guest house. "Her sudden interest in spotless rain gutters wouldn't have anything to do with your surprise visit, now would it," he ventured as he closed the door behind them and set his soul mate on his feet.

Jensen ducked Jared's grasp and headed for the tiny kitchen, hoping for something cool to drink. "Umm, maybe," he admitted sheepishly, "I asked her to make sure you didn't leave the house before I got here." He snagged the pitcher of tea from the fridge and poured two tall glasses with ice and a lemon wedge speared on the rim. Jared downed the entire glass in one long gulp, throat working distractingly. "I heard about your mother," he blurted out. "At least we know. But, dude, I've been hoping you were wrong. She never liked me, you know that, but I think I still wanted to believe that she couldn't have done it, that it was all some big mistake. She's your mother, Jay. What kind of a person," and his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say next. "I'm sorry," he finally added, and it was woefully inadequate to encompass the depth of sorrow he had felt when he had read Rachel's words over and over again, trying to find some way to interpret differently.

"Me too," Jared replied. The silence stretched between them. He was devastated, but not over the money. It had taken him a few days to realize it. The money would have been nice, and they now had a solid enough lead that he might actually get most of it back, but the betrayal hurt far more. The chance to make the woman pay for something, anything, had felt good. He would have settled for a real apology, though. Well, that and some jail time. Bitch had it coming.

"That's what your dopey text was about the other day," he mused.

Jared smirked, "Um, yeah."

"Dude, there wasn't a single word in the whole thing. I don't speak emoji," Jensen griped, ending with a little chuckle. The two of them had kept in touch since Jared's disastrous college graduation, even when there was nothing new or meaningful to say. For Jensen the urge to maintain contact had been all about the sound of Jared's voice on the other end of the line. It was an odd addiction he had picked up, or at least it felt odd to randomly call the man with nothing to say, but after a few weeks Jared had started to call him too and that had felt better than Christmas morning ever had. Soon they had been exchanging random dorky texts like they were pimply high schoolers all over again.

Jared started laughing, a fully belly laugh that left his shoulder shaking and his mouth split into a wide grin. "Thanks. I needed that. I've been a wreck. I keep flipping between laughing and crying so quickly that I'm sure Shari was starting to worry. Need you," he admitted.

Jensen had never been so keenly aware of the damage he had done to them than in that moment, seeing the expression on Jared's face and knowing that he was utterly helpless to translate what was crumbling at the edges of the other man's smile. He could guess, but if he had not been so wrapped up in himself back when it really counted then he would still be able to find out. "Rachel has been keeping me updated," he told him, "Do you want to go to the final day of the trial?"

Jared bit his lip, looking all of four years old with those puppy dog eyes of his. He crowded Jensen into the counter with his bulk, pulling him close with his short cropped hair tucked under his chin. "No," he finally said. He didn't want to see her. "When are you leaving?" He had to know so he could prepare.

Jensen tensed. "Do you want me to leave," he asked even though he wasn't going anywhere no matter what the answer turned out to be. Jared's face fell until he added, "Not going anywhere. No job to hold me down. We can stay here, or I have the flat. Your choice, Jay, but I'm not leaving without you." He waggled his eyebrows. "How do you not have the entire state panting after you? Cause… Damn," he asked as he leaned back and looked up and down the miles and miles of him.

Jared chuckled and rolled his eyes, happy to see some of Jensen's levity returning. He wasn't sure which question he wanted to answer first. "I like it here, but I want to see your paintings," he replied. Jensen had sent him a few snapshots of the completed watercolors, but his phone camera was decidedly crappy and they had turned out a little blurry and washed out. "And, all I had to do was tell them I have a soul mate," he added. It hadn't been that easy, but he really didn't want to start recounting tales about the two almost stalkers and this one girl at work that he'd nearly sued for sexual harassment. Bitch had put her hand down his pants. Not cool.

Jensen nipped at his jaw, tasting salt and Jared. "Hmmm. Tell you what, I've never had a vacation home before," he began. "Want to help me pick one out?" His hands settled easily at Jared's waist where his shirt was riding up, caressing the warmth of his skin and the gritty slick of sweat and dirt. He closed his eyes and sent out a little wish into the world. He really hoped this worked. He spread his hand on his soul mate's skin and pulled him close, knees bumping and chests pressed together. He hummed into the stubbly flesh against his lips. He wanted so badly to make a connection as he pushed into the tenuous bond still healing between them.

Jared was puzzled, "Here? Sure. I know a few places up for sale. But, Casey Key has the modern mansions." The places on Manasota Key were small little beach houses, old style Florida. Even Shari's home, bigger than her neighbors', had only three bedrooms. The guest house he was renting looked more like a studio apartment, consisting of only one room. It was basically a glorified pool shack that had been renovated. He wasn't complaining, though. Far from it. It was all he had needed, cozy even.

Jensen hummed. "But, you like it here," he pointed out. He settled into the crook of his neck, uncaring that he had smeared drying sweat and grime all over himself. "It's nice," he murmured.

Jared shrugged and leaned away, grabbing Jensen by his biceps to keep him still. He really needed to get cleaned up before too much of this muck got on Jensen too. On a normal day he could sweat like a pig, and today had been swelteringly hot. He was going to tell Jensen to get comfortable while he took a shower, but something astonishing happened behind his eyes. Jensen moved his hands up to Jared's own biceps, squeezing. It happened again. A burst of gold triumph flooded through him, peppered with specks of pale violet wonder. He gasped, hands spasming. "Jensen?"

Jensen smiled, green eyes opening. "Nice, huh," he gloated.

"How?"

"A lot of meditation, and it may never work without physical contact," he shrugged, looking a little sad. "I'm sorry," he added softly.

Jared was laughing all over again, picking the smaller man up into his arms and spinning them both around. "Teach me," he pleaded joyfully, his mood boisterous and light with this new development. Finally, he was getting back something out of all they had lost.

"Yeah, I can do that," Jensen promised.

Jensen stayed that night, the two of them cramped on the too-short twin bed. Jared called in sick for the next couple days while he introduced the other man to his favorite haunts. On the second day his freckled skin had turned a worrying shade of red that earned him an aloe vera massage courtesy of Jared's gentle touch. Rachel called one more time and between her and Jensen's unwavering pledge of support Jared's resolve crumbled. Soon the pair found themselves in exactly the place nether of them wanted to be. Might as well get it over with.

Jensen squeezed his hand, reminding the other man that he wasn't alone. His soul mate hadn't spoken a word since they'd walked between the massive pillars lining the courthouse steps of their home town. They were in an actual court room now, looking up at the robed judge. She didn't look sympathetic at all. The judge had the stern expression of a woman in a very bad mood after a very long day. Considering it was nearly five thirty in the afternoon, the assessment was a reasonable one. They were the last docket of the day and everyone, including Jared and his supporters, was ready to head home. He was worried she would decide to bump it till tomorrow. He didn't know how Jared would react to spending yet another day in this place, especially when the initial reaction had been not to come at all.

Jared made some small hurt noise when his mother walked into the court room, flanked on either side by uniformed officers. He seemed to curl in on himself, unconsciously seeking to disappear despite his size. It was costing him to see her again, even if only from across a crowded room. Jensen thought the posture of his strong soul mate resembled that of an abuse victim forced to face their attacker one last time and he could only do his best to support him through it, help him hold his head high and watch her deny everything she'd ever done wrong like it didn't gut him to listen. Like it didn't gut them both. He suspected she would deny ever birthing Jared if that would have saved her and he was not positive he could have sat through the entire trial without planning her murder over and over and over again as he listened to the prosecutor's closing statements. He couldn't help but wonder if this disaster would have happened had he not been born on the wrong side of the tracks, stupid as he knew the idea was.

He didn't have to endure Jared's obvious discomfiture and his own growing rage for long. It was over quickly. The jury deliberation last about thirty minutes, just long enough to run out for a cup of coffee in the lobby. A few words, some typing on the part of the court reporter, and Mrs. Padalecki's voice clear as a bell claiming that she was completely innocent of all charges just after the jury delivered a guilty verdict. Then it was all over. Jared's mother was escorted back to jail, the judge retired for the day, and Jared was left sitting in the audience benches a little shell-shocked while his sister rejoiced in hi stead. The sentencing would be held tomorrow, but Jensen knew they wouldn't attend. This had been enough. Jared had faced her and he wouldn't ask anything more of him, or allow anyone else to either.

There was a little pastry shop near the courthouse. Jensen had heard about it while they'd been stripping for security and it was there that he steered a subdued Jared. The man was so floored by the proceedings, by the flippant denial his mother had so casually used, that he got lost in his head trying to make sense of her. His body followed Jensen's gentle nudges and his long fingers held tightly to the big mug of dark drinking chocolate Jensen had purchased for him, but it wasn't until the drink had lost most of its warmth that his personality flooded back into those kaleidoscope hazel eyes and Jensen could breath again.

"You with me, Jay," he asked warily.

Jared sniffed, eyes watery. He gulped half of his drink in one large swallow and his smile was brittle, shaky at the edges. "Yeah. Thanks, uh, thank you for coming. With me," he replied.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Jensen replied without hesitation.

They got engaged on a Saturday in the middle of a Florida winter storm. The home they purchased turned out to be only a short walk from Shari, something Jared had taken advantage of often. It had needed some work, especially the roof, and one of the first things Jensen had done was gut the place of its aging floors and hideous wallpaper. The interior looked good now, full of cooling blues and soothing earth tones courtesy of Jared's obsession with contractor cast-offs. Jensen was enjoying the hammock strung between pillars on the front porch, ankles crossed and resting on the knotted rope that day. With the special sunblock mesh stretched over him he could sunbathe for more than five minutes without turning the color of a Maine lobster.

He was swaying in the breeze, side to side, face turned into the sun when it happened. The rain had rolled up like any other winter squall, fast and hard. One moment he had been basking in the gentle glow of the sun filtering through the mesh awning they'd installed to extend the roof over the hammock to protect his delicate freckled flesh. The next he was sputtering in the deluge, fat drops of rain pummeling the thin fabric and falling through in sheets of sliced droplet pieces. The resultant waterfall soaked him to the bone in seconds.

Jensen rolled out of the hammock so fast that he fell onto his stomach with a wet splat, forcing the breath from his lungs in a whoosh. He was going to be feeling that later. He suspected his forearms and chin were going to be purple from the impact on the wooden boards. He didn't have a moment to feel sorry for himself, though. A snap of thunder rolled through the air, lightning cracking nearby so close that he could barely discern any time delay. That meant it had landed practically on top of him. "Shit," he cursed as he scrambled off of the wet decking and sprinted into the house.

Jared found him huffing like a racehorse, eyes so wide the whites glowed against his green irises. He was dripping all over the beautiful brand new bamboo flooring Jared had chosen after spending two days agonizing over the box of samples. Water was even dripping from his eyelashes and the tip of his cute nose. Despite his ire, Jared didn't scold his soul mate. Jensen had immediately expected it when he realized where he'd ended up in his haste to get in out of the storm. Instead, the big moose wrapped him up in a big beach towel, the embarrassing one with neon palm trees and a smiling sea turtle wearing sunglasses that Shari had given him for a housewarming gift, and herded him towards the mudroom to strip down.

"You just want to see me naked," Jensen joked as he disrobed, left wearing nothing but his skin.

Jared rolled his eyes, thrusting a pair of his own well-worn sweat pants at him. "If I wanted that, all I'd have to do is ask," he reminded him. He stuffed the wet clothing into the washer with his work clothes and headed for the kitchen. "If you're good, I'll make hot chocolate," he told him.

Jensen pouted, "No fun."

"Hot chocolate," he reminded him.

Jensen was reasonably warm, his hair toweled dry as best as he could manage, when he padded barefoot into the kitchen. He'd made a detour to snag one of Jared's white undershirts and between that and the sweat pants he looked like he was wearing a giant's clothing. He would never admit that his first thought had been Shirley McCray and how she'd looked wearing nothing but his brother's dress shirt, the fabric swamping her smaller frame. He was no girl.

Jared was setting two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, overflowing with mini marshmallows and smelling like bliss, on the counter as he turned the corner. The kitchen tile was chilly on his bare feet and his hands were shaking. He looked a little green around the edges as the lightning continued flashing outside.

Jensen wrapped his fingers around the hot ceramic and sighed into his first sip. "You alright," he asked, concerned.

Jared came around the island to stand next to him, fidgeting with something in his hand. This looked important. He reached out and threaded their fingers together. His expression was serious.

Jensen looked into his soul mate's eyes, puzzled. He was a little apprehensive, having waited for the other shoe to drop since Jared moved in with him. There was a sickly yellow flash of doubt, or maybe fear, before the other man's hands settled and a warm pink glow of love saturated his mind, leaving behind little hints of indigo determination so dark it could have been mistaken for black. "Jay," he gasped.

Jared brought his other hand up, showing him the steel band he'd spent nearly a month's salary on. "Marry me," he insisted, leaving no room for doubt.

The thunder outside rattled the windows, the very bones of the house shivering as the storm battered the exterior. Jensen licked his lips and then his face split into a slow smile. "Hell yes. Gimme that," he laughed and snatched the ring out of his hands.

Jared sputtered, "But, but."

"Jay, you could've made me a ring out of tinfoil and I woulda said yes. I know what it's like to live without you. Not worth living. I'm keeping you. The ring's just a formality," he told him, turning the shiny metal on his finger. "Kinda pretty, though. Does that mean I'll be calling you Mrs. Ackles?" The tip of his tongue peeked out from the corner of his mouth as he considered the possibilities. Mischievous little devil.

Jared surged forward, catching his love's lips in a kiss, the swirl of colors coming from him so bright and numerous and overwhelming that Jensen had no hope of translating it all.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! I hope you enjoyed my story. For those of you, like myself, that want to spend a little more time with the boys, keep an eye out for the timestamps. I'll be adding them as additional chapters at the end of this fic after each has been written.
> 
> **Blind Pass Beach on Manasota Key can be found in Englewood, FL.  
> **The lyrics are from Pearl Jam's song Just Breathe.


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